


a million tiny lights (light the way to you)

by readerbeware



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Rose Tyler, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Lesbians in Space, Past Character Death, Pining, Reunions, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Team TARDIS, Useless Lesbians, but so has the doctor, i love space lesbians, like really slow burn, rose has been through some stuff, rose is mad at first, stuff has to get worked out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22768978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readerbeware/pseuds/readerbeware
Summary: When Rose Tyler is suddenly thrust back into her original universe, the Doctor is forced to deal with the feelings she's been avoiding for centuries now.One problem. Rose isn't sure she even has a place in this universe anymore.It's all a big mess, really.
Relationships: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Doctor Who) & Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 153
Kudos: 403





	1. I

It’s no secret to the Doctor that she looks a bit like Rose Tyler, this time around.

Thinking about Rose isn’t like it used to be. And thank God for that. After he lost her, the Doctor’s tenth incarnation couldn’t get her out of his head. He saw her everywhere, in every flash of blonde hair and every cheeky smile. Missed her constantly, too. Just the mere mention of her name was enough to send him into a self-destructive spiral. For her eleventh form, the floppy haired man-child, it became easier. It wasn’t fine, and he still missed her, but even the TARDIS had changed, and it became so much simpler to not think about it. There was less around to remind him of Rose Tyler, and soon enough, he became preoccupied with Pond Life, and later, the mystery of Clara Oswald. Number twelve, Mr. Eyebrows, hardly thought about her at all. When he did, it wasn’t heart wrenchingly painful in the way it was for number ten, or even number eleven. She wasn’t forgotten, but his life wasn’t being defined by her absence anymore.

For this version of the Doctor, it’s mostly the same. The thought of one Rose Tyler doesn’t feel like a punch to the gut. However, lucky number thirteen likes to reminisce on past adventures in a way number twelve did not, and a lot of those past adventures involve a certain blonde human.

And when she finally gets a chance to take a good look in the mirror, _Rose Tyler_ is the only thing on her mind.

Well, it’s not like they’re identical, but there’s something distinctly Rose-esque in the curve of her nose and the turn of her lips.

It’s nice.

Rose has always been quite pretty, one of the most beautiful humans the Doctor has ever seen, so that means that the Doctor could _also_ be considered quite pretty, this time around.

That’s nice, too.

She finds herself wondering, for the first time in a long time, if Rose would like this version of the Doctor. It’s silly, really, and the answer wouldn’t matter because Rose is still sealed off in another universe. Probably having the time of her life, snogging up a storm with the stupid Metacrisis Doctor.

Oh, that’s a horrible thought.

Or, she could be dead. Time could run by faster in Pete’s World, and Rose could have lived out her whole life by now. Or been eaten by an alien.

That’s an even worse thought.

With all this Rose Tyler talk, it’s truly remarkable that the Doctor doesn’t realise what’s happened any faster than she does. She’s _supposed_ to be taking Yaz and Graham and Ryan to the grand opening of Jupiter’s first Starbucks when the TARDIS lights go all red, and she starts making very dangerous creaky noises.

“What’s this about then, Doc?” Graham asks, hand on the wall to brace himself through the ship’s tremors. “We been caught in a tractor beam, or something?”

“That doesn’t happen,” the Doctors calls out as she frantically flips levers and pushes buttons. Pausing, she amends, “That doesn’t _usually_ happen!” The truth is, she doesn’t know what’s going on right now. She’s just a _tad_ preoccupied with trying to stabilise the time rotor, which is currently sounding dangerously fast. The TARDIS doesn’t respond to the Doctor’s frantic button mashing, but really, what else is new. One quick glance at the display shows the coordinates flipping manically through numbers and letters, never settling, until –

Oh.

Oh, that’s no good.

She whacks the screen a few times, hoping that this could be a fluke. Some old information left in the TARDIS data core, just coming up to the surface. Because there’s no way she can do this again, no way she can deal with the hurt that follows those two, _horrible_ words. Two words, that after all this time, still bring a little unfounded hope to the Doctor’s hearts.

“Shut up, shut up! No, we’re _not_ doing this today! Shut up,” she punctuates each words with another smack to the console. Yaz comes up behind her shoulder, able to stand properly now that the TARDIS has stopped her melodramatic shaking.

“What is it? What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she asks, concern for her friend lacing every word. The Doctor wants to revel in the kindness of her companion, to rejoice in the absolute compassion her new friends all seem to have, but she can’t bring herself to look away from the words on the screen.

Ryan makes his way over, too, and the Doctor does take a moment to worry over how he must have fared during the commotion, with his dyspraxia and all. He seems fine as he gently removes the display screen from her white-knuckled grip. He studies it for a moment. “What’s Bad Wolf?”


	2. II

The TARDIS lands after all, but by that point, the Doctor is too nerve-wracked to check where they’ve parked. The display, of course, is still fried, so the only way to see where they are is to go outside.

If only things could be that simple.

What if she goes outside now, and Rose is there? She’s never seen this face before. It would be a bit of a nasty shock. What if it’s Rose from before the Metacrisis, during her search for the Doctor? What if it’s _not?_ What would that even mean?

“Doc?” Graham again. Gathered around the console, her friends are the picture of confusion. The Doctor thinks _she_ must look like the picture of _anxiety._ It’s probably best, at this point, to put on a brave face. It’s not as if she’s still hung up on Rose, after all this time. Of course not. That would be silly; she’s moved on. They both have, in a way. She would simply explain to Rose, if they even see her, that she’s got the timelines mixed up. She hasn’t found her Doctor yet, but she will.

It will _not_ hurt to say goodbye again.

“Right then,” the Doctor chirps, pretending not to notice the looks on everyone’s faces. “This is exciting, isn’t it! A surprise destination! Let’s go see what we’re up against.”

She lets Yaz take the lead out the door as the Doctor tries to quell the nervousness _(and excitement)_ bubbling in the pit of her stomach. It wouldn’t hurt to get one more Rose hug out of the deal, either.

When she does finally step out of the TARDIS doors, the wind is knocked right out of her, respiratory bypass be damned. Because Rose Tyler is there, standing a few feet away, staring up at the blue box. All the things the Doctor thought she might have said if she ever saw her again are wiped clean. She waits, half in and half out of the TARDIS, mouth gaping like a fish until Rose’s eyes flicker to her. It feels the same way the Earth does as it turns, but one hundred times more intense. They hold each other’s gaze for a while. Any doubt the Doctor had about Rose recognising her in this form is gone. She fully exits the TARDIS at this point, movements shaky and unsure.

Then, Rose, ever a surprise, does something completely unexpected. She takes one more look at the TARDIS, shifting her gaze carefully between Yaz and Ryan and Graham, before turning on her heel and sprinting away.

The Doctor hears her friends’ questions, and she wants to answer them, truly, but she has one prime directive that apparently follows her through every incarnation: follow Rose Tyler. She’s running before she can register it.

“That’s not fair!” she calls, skidding to a stop when Rose ducks into a crowd of people. There’s no flashes of blonde. She’s gone. Did she – did she just _imagine_ that whole thing? That would be a new one. Or maybe, it was some random human who just _happened_ to bear a passing resemblance, and she had run because a big blue box had materialised out of nowhere, and some alien had been staring at her with worrying intensity. She bends down, panting, and waits for her friends to catch up. It couldn’t have been Rose; there’s just no way. It’s probably for the best, regardless.

Somehow, though, the Doctor feels remarkably like her tenth incarnation. She feels his loss and anger and heartbreak all over again, pulsing through her veins like electric shocks. It’s like she’s standing over the drowning Racnoss, watching the water flood in from the Thames, too consumed with rage to worry about her own death. It’s a dangerous feeling, one that scares her enough that she wants to head back to the TARDIS and forget this ever happened.

“Doctor, who was that lady?” Ryan asks. So, it wasn’t completely her imagination, then. It’s always nice to know that she’s not gone insane.

“I don’t…” she trails off, not completely sure how to answer.

Graham trots over, breathing heavily, and puts a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. “Was that your sister, or something?”

Ew. Yugh. No. “I should hope not,” the Doctor replies before she can stop herself, “that would have made things just a bit awkward.” Yaz makes a startled noise from the left, and the Doctor prays they can all just move past _that_ little declaration without further deliberation.

“Well, how am I supposed to know? You don’t tell us about your family, or anything, and then she shows up out of nowhere, then disappears in some weird yellow light before you can even say a word about it. It’s all very – well, _you._ ”

The Doctor sniffs indignantly. “Excuse me, when have I _ever_ disappeared in a – sorry, how do you mean, yellow light?” There’s that good old anxiety again, mixed with just the tiniest dash of hope that she can’t seem to shake.

“Exactly what I said! She was there, and then she ducked between some people, and there was some kind of, I don’t know, gold light? Then she was gone! Vanished!”

Golden light. Not the blue hue of the dimension cannon. But that would mean… No. No, that would be completely impossible. Stupid imagination, always running wild at the worst of times. “I didn’t see any light,” she says, softly, willing one of the others to concede that they, too, had missed it. Willing it to be untrue.

“I saw it too.” Ryan’s affirmation should cripple her; it should fill her with terror and concern and confusion. But instead, that blasted hope just grows stronger.

“Okay,” she says, “let’s all head back to the TARDIS, now. Come on, all.” It’s best not to worry about it. Truly. She tries to ignore the feeling of crushing defeat as they head back, because it’s really hard to admit (even to herself) how much she actually wanted to talk to Rose again. Even for a moment. She had assumed, at the very least, that Rose would be a bit _pleased_ to see her again. To see the TARDIS again, perhaps. Even though she’d changed her face, she’d thought Rose would still…

It doesn’t matter. Onwards and upwards, as they say.

Fidgeting with the console, she avoids the searching eyes of her friends. This version of her doesn’t like to lie, though she does spend much of her time avoiding the truth. But telling the whole story of Rose – all the pining, and longing, and pain, and suffering – might be too much to share right now. The Doctor knocks about the console for some time, but she really has no plans of taking off anytime soon, and that fact becomes obvious rather quickly. “It’s not a big deal, promise,” she sighs. “Just thought it may have been someone I used to know.”


	3. III

The Doctor is a selfish woman. Always has been. Or, a selfish _man_ in the past. Almost every travelling companion she’s ever had, she’s ruined their lives. Adric, Leela, Peri, Donna, Jack, Amy, Clara, Bill – the list goes on. She finds people and she takes and _takes,_ because she’s always sure this time won’t be like the last time. Or the time before. But it always is like the time before, and regular people end up immortal, or trapped in alternate timelines, or just plain dead. All because the Doctor can’t bear to be alone. Doesn’t want to see the universe without someone to share it with.

“Why won’t you tell us who she is?” Yaz questions, voice tinged with annoyance. And it’s fair of her, it really is. There’s only so much dancing around the point that one can take, and the Doctor’s friends seem to be reaching their limits.

“Because I’m not a hundred percent certain that it was her, is all.”

“What are you on about? Has it been so _long_ that you’ve actually forgotten your own friend’s face?” Graham asks accusingly, which hurts just the tiniest bit.

“I would never,” she whispers harshly. There go her words again, leaving her mouth without permission. Drat. “I mean, I would never forget any of your faces. Not just Rose, no. Though, she does have quite a nice face. Very lovely. Am I rambling?”

“Just a bit.” Ryan squints his eyes a bit, probably trying to discern where this conversation is going.

“Well, how could you not be sure? She seemed to know you.” Yaz again, putting them back on the right track.

“I dunno. I don’t like getting my hopes up, Yaz. And I _really_ don’t know why she would run from the TARDIS, and I don’t understand what you said, Graham. About the gold light. Are you sure?”

Graham rolls his eyes and huffs in agitation. “Of course I’m sure, Doc. I’m old, not barmy.” Perhaps she’s being a tad rude. Her tenth regeneration, the one who had Rose, was always a bit rude too. Did Rose like that about him? Would she prefer if this regeneration was rude? Because she would do that, if it meant pleasing Rose Tyler.

“Right. Well, I think I’d best go out and look for her. If it _is_ her, of course. She might be confused. Or scared. And I can’t have that.”

“I’ll come with you,” Yaz suggests gently.

“No!” The Doctor nearly shouts. “Sorry. No, but thank you, Yaz. Good ol’ Yaz. I’d just rather not scare her. All new faces, after all. Believe it or not, she knows me as a rather skinny man with sideburns and sandshoes.” Grinning, she ducks out the doors before the others can question her. Maybe, if she’s lucky, that tidbit of information will keep them talking about something _other_ than Rose Tyler while the she’s gone out. Maybe.

As she weaves through the crowd outside – mostly human, some others – she grabs a couple people by the arm, just to ask them, _have you seen my friend? Have you seen a blonde running through here? Has anyone disappeared in a flash of light recently?_ Most of the time, she gets ignored, with a few judgemental looks in between. It’s slowly becoming quite hopeless, but the Doctor isn’t ready to give up just yet. If Rose was _here_ , in this universe… Even if it was earlier in her timeline, and she’d have to leave again to help stop the Reality Bomb, the Doctor _needs_ to talk to her. That fact is becoming more and more apparent as the seconds trickle by like rain against a window.

Where the hell is she?

Because the Doctor can’t walk away from this, not when she was so close. She just _knows_ that she saw Rose. As much as she might have thought it was a mistake, or a misunderstanding, she knows deep inside that it _had_ to be Rose. That face, it isn’t one the Doctor will be forgetting any time soon.

“Excuse me, but have you seen my friend? Her name is Rose Tyler, and – oh.” In her haste, she’d grabbed the arm of a passerby and just started talking, not pausing to notice the stranger’s golden hair. Staring back at her are wide hazel eyes. “Rose,” she whispers, too scared to breathe just in case the Earth were to crumble from the force of it.

Memories long since passed rise to the surface, bubbling over like an unwatched pot. She remembers everything, the good and the bad, from the feel of her hand to her windswept hair on Bad Wolf Bay. She recalls the soft brush of Rose’s lips on her own as the Doctor struggled to remove the time vortex from her body. _Rose Tyler._

“How do you know my name?” Rose asks, but there’s recognition throughout her features. The words _you’re still you_ float out of a long-forgotten corridor and bounce around the Doctor’s brain. _I’m still me,_ she wants to scream, loud enough for everyone to hear. But she doesn’t, because silly as it is, she wants Rose to say her bit first.

“Rose, please. Don’t do this.”

“I don’t know you,” she huffs, “now let go of me.”

Blinking, the Doctor realises she’s still got her hand wrapped around Rose’s upper arm with a bruising grip. She lets go like she’s been burned. “Why did you run?”

“I have to go.” Rose turns on her heel sharply, but the Doctor starts forward to keep pace with her before she can stop herself. It’s all she can do to not reach down and lace their hands together. _Really not the time, Doctor._

“That’s alright. I’ll come with you.”

“I’m not even supposed to be here,” Rose frowns, still walking quickly and keeping her gaze locked straight ahead. Wistfully, the Doctor takes a moment in between the seconds to study her lost friend’s face: so young, like she hadn’t aged a day. Well, she technically hasn’t aged, considering she’d be younger than when the Doctor and Donna had dropped her off in Pete’s World again. _Tricky, tricky timelines._

“I know. And you’ll find him, you will, if you’ll just stop and let me talk to you for a second!”

Rose stops so suddenly that the Doctor has to stumble back a few paces just to face her. “Who are you?” Her voice comes out shaky and unsure, like when she was trying to stop the Sycorax invasion. A rush of adoration at the memory sends tingles to the tips of the Doctor’s fingers.

“Rose… It’s _me._ ”

“But – _how?_ I don’t – I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay! You’ve just not hit the right time yet. It’ll all work out, I promise.”

Rose takes a long pause as she furrows her brow and crosses her arms. Slowly, she takes a deep, shuddering breath. For the first time, the Doctor can see real panic behind the determined set of her eyes. “No. I don’t understand how I got to this universe at all.”

Oh. Well, that changes things a bit.

The Doctor’s mind boots up and starts coming up with thousands of theories in a matter of milliseconds, but for once in her life, she wishes it would all just stop. Or slow down, at least. Is this Rose from before the dimension cannon was built? Or from after everything – the Rose she left with her clone. “You weren’t using the dimension cannon?”

“Course not. We destroyed them after… you know.”

Okay, so that rules out that this is Rose from _before_ the dimension cannon. This is the Rose from _after_ the Metacrisis Doctor. Complicated. Very complicated. “What do you last remember doing?”

Rose looks up in exasperation. “Dunno, it was a normal day.”

“You have to remember _something_ out of the ordinary _._ People don’t just cross universes. _”_ There’s one niggling bit at the back of the Doctor’s brain that wants Rose to admit that she _tried_ to get back here. That she wanted to see the Doctor.

“Don’t you think I know that? If I knew how I got here, then I would know how to get back.”

An idea, just barely half baked, pops out of the Doctor’s mouth before she can properly consider it. “You could come back to the TARDIS. We could figure this out. Together.” Maybe it’s self indulgent, but she does hold her hand out this time, palm up, wiggling her fingers in invitation.

The other woman stares for several good seconds, as if she were contemplating the meaning of the gesture. She turns her head away angrily. “No. No way. I won’t go swanning off with you, not again.”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I want to go home!” she cries suddenly, throwing her arms up in the air. “I want to go back to _my_ universe!”

That one stings more than the Doctor had expected it to. She takes back her outstretched hand and crosses her arms. “You know, at one point, you considered _this_ universe your home.” It’s a low blow, she knows, because all she had really wanted was for Rose to feel at home in the strange new world she was meant to live in. It’s not as if she chose to live there.

“Fuck you,” Rose hisses, cheeks flushed and eyes ablaze. She looks stunning. _Really not the time, Doctor._

“Sorry,” the Doctor replies, because she deserved that one. Rose releases a little bit of tension from her body, the hard set of her shoulders relaxing as she shifts back and forth on her feet. “I really will help you get back. I swear.”

Rose nods, avoiding the Doctor’s gaze determinedly. “You’ve regenerated,” she says offhandedly.

“Yup,” the Doctor says, trying to keep her tone light, “several times since I last saw you. The TARDIS is like the cast of _Full House,_ even when it’s just me.” She chuckles a little at her own joke, not because she thought it was funny, but because she thinks it might get Rose to laugh too. It does not.

“You’re a woman.”

The Doctor looks down, ashamed for a reason that she can’t figure out. “I am. Is that okay?”

“I’m not sticking around, so it doesn’t really matter what I think,” she shrugs, but her body language expresses discomfort. It makes the Doctor want to apologise for something she couldn’t have controlled. They walk in silence the rest of the way back. The Doctor thinks that she might get to properly wow Rose with the new TARDIS design, because that would be exciting at least, but the human girl doesn’t pause in front of the box the way one might expect, instead pushing through the doors without a second thought. The TARDIS hums pleasantly at their entrance, and the Doctor catches a split second of affection on Rose’s face before it’s gone again. She doesn’t mention the new interior.

Yaz, Ryan and Graham come streaming in from the hall a few moments later, and the Doctor curses herself. Rose did _not_ do well meeting Sarah Jane, and there’s no telling how she’ll react to this parade of new people – people that she might see as replacements.

“Oh! Uh, Rose, this is Graham, and that’s Ryan, and here is Yaz. They’re my friends! The fam, really, but they don’t like it when I say that. Graham, this is Rose. Ryan, this is – oh, you get the point. Anyways, Rose and I were just going to figure out a problem, so if you all could just…” the Doctor rattles off introductions all in one breath before anyone can get a word in edgewise.

“Hi, ” Rose says, distractedly, looking over the console. Okay. No reaction is better than a bad reaction, the Doctor supposes. Yet, the nonchalance of it all makes annoyance settle within her stomach.

The others start forward, questions in their eyes, despite the Doctor’s _clear_ ‘get out of here’ hand signals. “No, really, we’re trying to figure out a problem. I’ll be with you later, promise. Now, if you lot would give us a minute…”

“Sure thing, Doc,” Graham smiles. The Doctor nearly sighs in relief, but then all three of her _supposed_ friends merely gravitate to the edges of the room instead of leaving it, like she’d wanted them to do. “We’ll be right here, case you need us. Out of sight, out of mind.”

_Oh, that look on his face is smug. That’s proper smug._

“Graham! Seriously, get lost.” She hates being short with them, and the frown on Yaz’s face makes her feel horrible, but some things really don’t need an audience. The Doctor heads over to the console as well, pretending she can’t physically feel the distance between her and Rose. Swiftly, she taps away on the display screen, even though she’s not sure what she should be looking for. Artron energy levels are normal. Which the shouldn’t be, if Rose had accidentally travelled through the void. She’s not even sure how such a thing could occur without a time capsule, and she wants answers. Perhaps if she can get Rose to lower her defences. “Where’s the other me, then? Doctor 2.0?”

“John.” The objection is so quiet that the Doctor almost doesn’t hear it.

“What’s that?”

They’re both quiet for a moment, tension filling the air between them as if someone were pouring concrete. “He didn’t like to be called Doctor,” Rose says finally. “He wanted to be called John Noble.”

Oh.

“Sorry. Where’s John, then?”

A dark look passes over Rose’s face, but it’s fleeting. “Gone.”

_Oh._

“How do you mean, ‘gone’?” she asks gently.

Rose shrugs, not shifting her gaze from one of the levers on the control panel. The Doctor is beginning to notice a lot of awkward pauses in their back and forth. Just another reminder of the time they’ve spent apart, she supposes. “We’re not together anymore.”

Indignant anger bubbles up over the surface at the casual feel of the statement. The Metacrisis Doctor and she had shared a brain once, before they went their separate ways. The Doctor _knows_ how he felt about Rose, knows the Earth-shattering faith and adoration he had been holding deep inside. She knows this because she, of course, also had (has?) the same feelings, without the ability to voice them. A million _almosts_ run through her mind: _Tell her… oh, she knows. Give her back to me. Imagine that happening to someone that you… If I believe in one thing, I believe in her. Rose Tyler-_

_Does it need saying?_

Apparently, it did.

Rose couldn’t possibly understand how hard it was to leave her on that beach, or how devastating it was so watch her _kiss_ a man who technically wasn’t the Doctor. She had made her choice, and it had nearly torn the Doctor apart. And now she’s saying she’s _left_ him?

“Rose Tyler, did you _leave my clone by himself in that parallel world?_ You did, didn’t you! He needed you! _”_

“You left both of us in a parallel world.”

“I did that for you! Everything I did, I did for you!” The Doctor shouts, limbs trembling with frustration. She’s never acted like this to Rose, not since the incident with the Reapers, but she can’t help the vindictive words spewing from her mouth.

“Are you sure, _Doc_?” Rose snaps. “Because I think you dumped him off with me because _you_ didn’t want to deal with him. You didn’t want him, and you didn’t want me, so you abandoned us! Two birds, one stone, right?”

“Of course I wanted you, Rose! More than anything. I was only doing what was best for you!”

Rose scowls at her from across the console, her face illuminated by the TARDIS interface. For the first time, the Doctor’s not sure she recognises the face that’s staring back at her. “Don’t pretend that you care about anyone but yourself.”

The Doctor stalks over to Rose, angrier than she’s ever been in this regeneration. They’re nearly the same height now, and she longs for the days when she could tower over the other girl in intimidation. “And don’t _you_ pretend that I never cared about you. That _he_ didn’t care about you. I thought you, of all people would be better than that. Telling me that you _love_ me, and then dumping me like yesterday’s trash as soon as I become human? What, he didn’t have a _TARDIS_ , so he wasn’t good enough for-“

In one swift movement, Rose whips her hand across the Doctor’s face, the sharp sound of the slap echoing throughout the whole room. “Don’t you _dare._ Don’t you dare tell me that I didn’t love him.”

Holding her cheek, the Doctor gapes at her former companion. She doesn’t know what exactly she’s done to make Rose this angry, because sure she’s been shouting, but Rose looks like she could kill right now. And even the TARDIS is silent now, her usual humming dimmed away to nothing. “Rose, I’m just being honest. You can’t have loved him that much if-”

“John Noble is dead.”

_What?_

“What?”

“He died.”

No. No, no, no. She’d been sure that this wasn’t going to happen. Donna couldn’t exist because she was originally a human, but the Metacrisis Doctor was supposed to be different. He was supposed to survive. “Rose, I’m so… His body was supposed to hold up. I swear, I thought he would live.”

Rose’s big hazel eyes suddenly fill with tears, but she doesn’t let them fall. Her face is scrunched up in dignified concentration. “His body did hold up. Then he turned 86, and he died.”

There’s a ringing in the Doctor’s ears, and it’s not from the TARDIS. The whole room swims a bit as her world is knocked off its axis. She doesn’t understand, but at the same time, she does. She understands how Rose can look so young when her eyes look so weathered and weary. She understands that the Time Lords don’t truly know what exposure to the Vortex could do to a human. “I am _so_ sorry,” she whispers, because she has to say something, even though nothing could ever be enough.

“I waited for you. Like, I thought that maybe you knew he died, and you were going to come back for me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Did you know?”

“Did I know what?” The Doctor asks hesitantly.

“That I would have to watch him grow old. That I would have to watch him die.”

“ _No,”_ the Doctor insists, holding her arms out placatingly. “You have to believe me, _no.”_ Rose simply nods, a horribly torn expression on her face, and turns away. For one terrifying moment, it looks like she’s going to storm right through the doors and leave, but then she takes a left at the corridor, walking until she disappears from sight. Alone, the Doctor is left wondering how she’d managed to mess up this badly. She slumps over, eyes closed, and puts her hands over her face. She’s spent so long running away from these feelings – from the guilt of leaving her behind, and from the.. _things_ she felt for Rose. Things Time Lords aren’t meant to feel.

Alone, in the TARDIS, the Doctor starts to cry.


	4. IV

“Doc, when you were talking to Rose yesterday, you mentioned something. And, well, we were just wondering if you’d explain it to us humans over here,” Graham asks. Her friends have been blissfully quiet around her this morning, but the Doctor could see that they’re brimming with questions. It was only a matter of time before one burst out.

“You weren’t meant to be listening. I asked you to leave.” Ryan raises his hands in surrender as Yaz rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. “What is it, Graham?” the Doctor sighs.

“You mentioned a… second version of you? Doctor 2.0, you said.”

“Ah, that. Yes, that’s a very long story. Very long indeed.” She makes herself busy with meaningless tasks, hoping to avoid the truth as much as possible. Things that need to be explained will be explained.

“We’ve got time,” Ryan smiles encouragingly.

The Doctor would tend to disagree. If there’s anything humans don’t seem to have a lot of, it’s time. “Rose normally lives in a parallel universe. It’s where I’m trying to help her get back to. Simply put, in that world, there was a human version of me. And they were together, I suppose.”

Yaz frowns in concern. “By together, you mean…”

“I don’t mean anything, Yaz. I just mean together.”

“So, what happened?”

Sighing, the Doctor tucks a few stray locks of hair behind her ears. By the way Rose had avoided the point of the matter, she figured this one probably wasn’t her story to tell. “They’re not together now, and that’s the end of it.” She can feel more questions buzzing through the air, so she waits patiently, hoping that the next one will be one she can answer.

“How’d you know her, then?” Ryan asks.

“Well, she lived in this universe first. It truly is a long story, one for another day, I think.” Once again, confronting the reality of Rose, left behind as the universe walls close, is too much for the Doctor to bear. And now, a new image, one of Rose, alone, waiting for the Doctor to come get her after John died. Confused, distraught, watching the world change around her as she stays the same.

She wonders when Rose had realised that she wasn’t aging. If it had been watching the seasons change, or watching little Tony get taller, or watching John across the table at breakfast. Watching John, as his skin grew wrinkled and his hair turned silver. Watching John, sleeping beside her in bed, bodied pressed together.

It’s strange, being jealous of a dead man.

“Did you love her?” Yaz asks. The Doctor’s eyes slam shut for a moment, the words she had always been too scared to say coming so easily from another’s mouth. She wonders if it’s normally this easy for humans, to toss around such a term without realising the weight of it. To give yourself to someone so easily. To admit your vulnerabilities even to yourself, without worrying whether or not you’ll have to go one someday without the person that you-

“I think that’s enough for today,” she finishes, but she can tell by the looks on their faces that her non-admission is answer enough.

\---

“Are you ready to start, then? We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

The Doctor spins around from where she had been doing repairs, the sound of Rose’s voice startling her out of memories of planets where the dogs had no noses. It’s surreal, having her old friend on board. Although, she’s not sure whether or not to call them friends anymore. It’s not that she doesn’t still think of Rose that way, it’s just that her stinging cheek is a harsh reminder of the distance that’s been between them. A reminder that _Rose_ probably doesn’t still think of the _Doctor_ that way.

And that’s _okay._ It really is. The Doctor’s been through the Time War; she’s seen the fall of the Time Lords by her own hand, for fuck’s sake. She’s not going to lose it because one human girl isn’t absolutely infatuated by the mystery of the Doctor anymore. So what, if Rose knows more about her than any other person. So what, if being in Rose’s presence in the closest the Doctor has felt to being home in centuries. It doesn’t matter. Rose wants to go back to her own universe, and that’s that.

No need to get uppity about it.

“I am,” she says, dusting her hands off on her trousers. “I was looking into it, and it doesn’t look like there was anything out of the ordinary going on with Void energy or Artron energy when you came through.” She moves closer to the other girl, wondering whether or not a physical gesture of comfort would be out of the question. A hand on the shoulder, perhaps.

Rose hums a bit, crossing her arms in front of her defensively. _That answers that question._ “Any other theories?”

“No,” the Doctor admits, trying her best not to sound dismayed, “but I suppose that’s what the library is for. You know, I’ve not actually read all the books in there. There always seems to be more every time I go in. What do you say, you and me in the library? I can make some hot cocoa, and it’ll be like old times?”

Furrowing her brow, Rose scoffs. “Are you daft?” She shakes her head a few times. “Sorry. Rude. I’m really grateful for your help, but things can’t go back to the way they used to. I’m a different person than I was when I was nineteen, whether I look the same or not.”

“I’m not the same person either, obviously. Maybe these new versions of ourselves will get along,” the Doctor tries, smiling hopefully even as Rose frowns.

“I’m sorry… but I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m glad we met up, I really am. I could really use your help. But I’m not here to play catchup. And if that’s all you want, then I can try to figure it out myself, I guess..”

“No! No, I’m sorry, Rose, stay.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for being so harsh, but…”

“I get it.” She doesn’t get it. “Library, but no hot cocoa. No problem.”

“Thank you,” Rose says. “Really. Thank you.”

\---

For the next couple days, Rose and the Doctor tip toe around each other, all tight smiles and tension-filled silences. As far as Rose knows, the Doctor is trying her hardest to find a way to get her home. But truth be told, she’s almost positive that there isn’t one. Not without understanding how Rose got to this universe in the first place.

Rose doesn’t seem to know how she did it either. And if she does, she’s staying very tight lipped about it, which wouldn’t make sense, considering how desperately she wants to get home. It makes the Doctor wonder what she wants to get home to. A family? Did she have children? She never told the Doctor how old she actually was; she could have a whole new family at home. A whole new husband or boyfriend. The thought makes the Doctor dig her fingernails into the palm of her hand hard enough that she bleeds.

They’re in the library, researching everything the Doctor has on the Void (which isn’t much), when she notices Rose watching her out of the corner of her eye. Her hearts skip a beat, but she doesn’t dare meet the other blonde’s gaze. Instead, she frowns down at the book on her lap, trying _very_ hard to make it look like she’s actually reading it. A minute later, she dares to look again, and Rose is still staring.

“What?” she asks softly, wary of starting another confrontation.

Rose’s cheeks flare up immediately as she clears her throat. “Sorry. It’s nothing.”

The Doctor considers letting it go, but ultimately, the chance to talk to Rose about something other than interdimensional travel is too tempting. “What’s on your mind?” It’s a starting point, although she’s not certain that Rose will be eager for small talk yet.

“Really, it’s nothing. It’s just… The way that you were chewing on your pen. It’s just that my husband – John – used to do that, is all. You remind me of him.”

Ah. So, husband it is, then. It’s not all that surprising, with the way they were clinging to each other on that beach. It was kind of what was intended, too. The Doctor grits her teeth anyways. Which makes her feel like the World’s biggest arsehole, of course, because Rose has gone through so much shit because of the Doctor’s actions. She had sent Rose to Pete’s World again for a lot of reasons, and sure, the largest of all of them was that she wanted her to be happy. Happy with the Doctor’s clone. But another huge, glaring reason is that she didn’t want to see her best friend grow old and die.

And that’s exactly what Rose had been forced to do.

“I guess you could say we were the same person.”

“You weren’t.”

“No,” the Doctor says, “I suppose we weren’t.” _John wasn’t a coward. John could tell you how he really felt._

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” Rose sighs, trying for a smile that comes out just a bit tired.

“Yes, you did. And that’s okay. I deserve a bit of that.”

Rose doesn’t respond to that. But when she starts flipping through her book again, the silence is the tiniest bit more comfortable. To the Doctor, it feels like letting out a breath she’d been holding since Rose had arrived. She finds herself on the opposite end now, studying her (former?) friend as she runs her fingers down the pages. It’s innocent enough, until Rose starts biting her lip in concentration, and the Doctor has to look away, so she doesn’t start thinking of things she ought not to. She glances back, though, just as Rose tilts her head up. They stare at each other for a while, no challenge in the contact, just idle curiosity.

“Your friends seem nice,” Rose finally says. “Like they care about you. I guess I should apologize, though, for being rude when I first came in. Or at least properly introduce myself.”

“I think they can tell that you’re going through a lot,” the Doctor replies.

“Still, though.”

“Yeah.” They don’t talk for another couple moments, and once again, the Doctor is struck by how stilted their conversations are. Better than awkward silence, however. “Did you have people too, at least? After the other Do – after John passed?” She needs to know that Rose wasn’t completely alone.

“Oh, a few, here and there.” Her voice sounds strained, signaling that Doctor that she should pick another topic. But there’s one thing she’s stuck on. Just one pesky though that won’t stop crashing around in her brain.

“Rose,” she pauses, “do you have any children?”

The absolutely _crushed_ look on Rose’s face makes her regret asking. A cold feeling nestles deep in the Doctor’s stomach. “A son,” she whispers. “We called him Jack.”

“Where is he now, then?” _Stop talking,_ her brain urges, but she _has_ to know.

Rose closes her book softly, putting it down on the end table before standing up on shaky legs. “Just me now. He didn’t have any kids of his own, so there are no grandchildren running about.”

“Oh God, Rose, I’m so sorry.”

“S’alright,” she slurs, her words thick with emotion. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you any of this.”

The Doctor stands up then too, just as Rose turns to go. She stands still, with her back to the Doctor, before spinning back around. Her cheeks are shining with tears. Earnestly, the Doctor wraps her arms around the trembling girl, crushing their bodies tightly together. Rose clutches the Doctor’s t-shirt in between her fisted fingers as the Doctor runs her hands along Rose’s spine. Despite the circumstances, she can’t help but revel in the closeness she’s been craving since Rose stepped on board. It’s been years, after all. Centuries. Millenia, if you count what happened in the Time Dial. They stand in the silence of the library, swaying together in a familiar (yet so very unfamiliar) embrace. “How old are you really?” she asks softly, afraid for the answer.

Rose sobs harder into the crook of her neck.

\--

Opening up about Jack was a mistake. This woman is not John. Hypothetically, Rose knows this. She thought that coming back to the TARDIS would be fine, that she could focus on the matter at hand without getting attached. It’s been a lot of years, after all. She’s not going to fall prey to the Doctor’s charm again.

The Doctor decided to lock her up in a fucking glass box, where she would always be the same in her mind. Where she would never change. But now that she _can’t_ change, the Doctor can’t just decide that everything’s okay again. Maybe, at one point, her life did revolve around the Doctor. What she thought of her, what she was doing, whether or not she loved her.

Now she _knows_ that the Doctor couldn’t have loved her.

She’s not capable of love. Not John; John was practically made of love. He was positively overflowing with love, and Rose never doubted it for a minute. But this Doctor… she can’t love. Could never love. Sure, she takes humans on adventures, humans she thinks need some fixing up, but then she changes them. She changes them and wrecks them and destroys their lives. There were times when Rose thought that _maybe_ the Doctor, the that Rose knew, had loved her. But those times were the musings of a love-struck teenager.

She knows better now.

Still, though. It’s easy to say all these things and another thing completely to actually act on them. It’s hard, when the Doctor was looking at her with those big, earnest eyes, just begging for some answers. And Rose hasn’t been able to confide in anyone for so long – how do you tell someone that you’ve attended your seventy-eight-year-old son’s funeral when you only look nineteen? But the Doctor, out of anyone, seemed to have understood the implications of outliving almost everyone you’ve ever cared for. And why wouldn’t she?

The Doctor had been Rose’s best friend, once upon a time. That was real. And Rose hasn’t forgiven her – not by a long shot – but maybe she doesn’t have to be so cold.

\---

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line yesterday. I just want you to know that I’m here for you for as long as you’re in this universe.”

Rose stirs her tea absentmindedly, nodding along to the sentiment. “Thank you. I’m fine though, really. It’s just been a while since I’ve talked about them with anyone, and I guess it was just too much.”

The Doctor nods solemnly as the kettle starts to boil from the counter behind her. It’s mad; even kettles on the TARDIS make the same ear-splitting noise that all other kettles do. It’s just one of those facts of life, she supposes. If you’re having a serious moment with someone, the water needs to boil at that exact moment. “More tea?” she asks, gesturing to the offending object.

“Please.”

It’s only halfway through pouring that the Doctor realises she should probably ask Rose how she takes her tea now. It’s been a while, there’s no disputing that fact, and it would only be polite to make a decent effort to get the right kind of tea. “How would you like it?” she asks, even as her brain supplies, _one cream, two sugar. One cream, two sugar._ And once upon a time, that would have been the answer, and the Doctor wouldn’t have even had to worry abut it. But no, instead she has to ask _how would you like you tea?_ In the same way you would ask some common stranger, just visiting your flat. For the first time, she allows herself to entertain the possibility that that’s all her and Rose are, now. Strangers.

“One cream, two sugars, thanks.”

_Victory. Sweet victory._

“Well, at least that hasn’t changed,” the Doctor says, shutting her mouth with an audible click because _that wasn’t meant to come out so bitterly._ But to her surprise, Rose just chuckles absentmindedly, watching as the Doctor fixes her drink with practiced hands. She looks tired, exhausted even, with red-rimmed eyes and slightly downturned lips.

She can still feel Rose’s shuddering breaths as they embraced in between the shelves of books. She can still hear the heart wrenching sobs as she shook with poorly restrained tears. Rose is anything but fine. She also knows it’s probably none of her business. It’s self indulgent of her to want to know more, because what could she honestly do to make any of it better, but she needs to actually know how royally she screwed up.

“I’d love to hear more about them. John and Jack. Honestly, I would.”

As she exhales through puckered lips, Rose’s eyes find the Doctor’s. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“What?”

“I’ve been trying really hard to be mean to you, but you’re making it very difficult. I don’t get it.”

Pausing, the Doctor chuckles wryly. “I wouldn’t say that you’ve been mean. S’more like you’re just saying the things that most people are afraid to tell me. I don’t mind.”

“No,” Rose says, “I’ve been awful. You’re volunteering to help me, and all I’ve done is be rude to you and ignore your friends.”

“Rose, I’m not just going to leave you stranded.”

“Why not? I’d have left you.”

“Now _that’s_ a bit rude,” the Doctor chides good naturedly as she shakes her head.

The other woman blinks a few times, obviously as surprised by the words that had just come out of her mouth as the Doctor was. “I… I just mean that I probably wouldn’t have put my life on hold like this if you’d shown up on my doorstep and acted the way I’m acting.”

“But you would have, at one point. You did. Many times. I figure it’s probably time I repay you for some of that.”

They’re quiet for some time after that, the Doctor seeming to quelled Rose’s curiosity about her behaviour. What she said wasn’t a lie – Rose does deserve a little extra support after all the Doctor’s put her through. What she doesn’t say, because she’s a fucking coward, is that she’d rather have Rose here and being mean than not here at all.

_Does it need saying?_

“I did a lot of travelling, you know. In my universe.”

The Doctor looks up from her work (a complex series of equations that are getting her no closer to solving their problem) and smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Just though you should know. So you didn’t think I was just wasting away.”

While their relationship has been steadier since Rose’s breakdown in the library, things still were not all smooth sailing. Getting Rose to talk about her life since their last parting has been… difficult, to say the least, so this topic choice is surprising. The Doctor doesn’t plan on letting it go to waste. “Rose Tyler, wasting away? Doing nothing? I’d never think that,” she prods, reveling in the half-grin Rose sends her way. “Where’d you get to?”

“First, I went around the Earth. Saw some places I’d never thought I’d get to see. That was with him. With John. Then, me and some of the people at Torchwood had been working on improved space travel. So, I got to see a lot of planets. Met a lot of people, helped them out of some tough situations.” That was also a little surprising. _Rose Tyler, Defender of Earth_ had been expected, but _Rose Tyler, Defender of the Galaxy_ had truly not been. “I had a lot of time,” Rose adds vaguely at the Doctor’s startled look.

Once again, the Doctor asks, “How old are you, Rose?”

“Older than I look,” she replies, pleading with her eyes for the Doctor to drop it.

“Rose…”

“Let’s go somewhere,” Rose suggests as she leaps up from the staircase where she had been sitting. It’s an obvious diversion tactic, but it works.

“What? Really?”

Enthusiastically, Rose nods her head, clapping her hands together. “Yeah! I mean, we’ve still gotta figure out how I can get back home, but we’re not really making much progress today. Why don’t we take a short trip? Just one, though. For old times’ sake.”

A slow, almost manic smile spreads over the Doctor’s face. “What could go wrong?”


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION!!!!!  
> Just a few important things before this chapter!  
> 1\. hi everyone!! i'm super amazed by all the love this has been getting. i figured it wasn't even going to get read by anyone lol.  
> 2\. this chapter is basically It Takes You Away. but this fic IS NOT AN EPISODE-BY-EPISODE REWRITE. i might do another, if this is popular, but it's basically just to advance the actual plot. i'm not rewriting the whole show.  
> 3\. most of this fic is written already. there's room to add or take away stuff, but if you're ever thinking i've abandoned this because i haven't posted in a while, i promise that there's more coming. i just like to space it out so i'm not posting old chapters faster than i can write new ones.

“Ah, nice fjord. This is a fjord, isn’t it?” Graham asks. Rose takes a look around, trying to ignore the budding excitement in her stomach, reminiscent of years spent travelling with the Doctor all those years ago. Graham’s right; the body of water stretched out in front of them is particularly beautiful. Damp moss climbs up the towering trees and across the forest floor. Overhead, a bird calls.

It’s lovely.

This is definitely Earth (she can feel the similarities in the rotation of the planet). It might not be a fancy alien city, but the way that the wind is softly moving the branches and leaves around them reminds Rose of simpler times.

“Got your bearings yet, Doc?”

The Doctor looks up from where she had been rummaging through some ferns. She’s chewing on something. God, why does she always have to be chewing on something. It’s painfully akin to the way _Rose’s_ Doctor used to act. It’s been years since she lost him – both hims – but this whole adventure in the other universe is making old wounds open. She needs to get home. Her universe doesn’t have the Doctor, and it needs someone to protect it. But she’d asked for this, for an adventure, because she’d wanted to avoid an awkward conversation, and because she felt like she owed something to this universe. Something to this Doctor.

“Norway. Definitely Norway. One of the frilly bits on the top,” the Doctor deducts. Norway. Rose’s heart speeds up as she wonders is this is the universe’s way of trying to get her back home. Another Rose, younger and much more naïve, cries out from inside her own head. She doesn’t want to go back, doesn’t want to face Bad Wolf Bay again. But the older and stronger Rose knows that her universe needs her. She also knows that if she has to stay here, it won’t be with the Doctor. Resentment had been born of time and pain, and Rose isn’t sure if her trust can ever be won again.

They’re having a conversation about a sheep that’s wondered up to the group, but Rose can’t be bothered to join in. Honestly, she has no issues with the Doctor’s new friends, but also has no place in their repertoire or in their lives. Hopefully, she won’t be sticking around, so there’s no use in forming new relationships. With anyone. Even the Doctor.

She’s still not quite sure why she told her about Jack that night. His death… it’s her most painful memory. Rose had to stay the same, for _decades,_ watching her husband and, later, her son withering away. Losing Jack had been the single worst moment of Rose’s very long life, to the point that she envied John for not having to witness it. For the longest time, she’d wished she was dead. But, and not for lack of trying, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Are you coming, Rose?” Rose doesn’t startle easily anymore, but Yaz’s voice does make her jump the tiniest bit. She cocks her head in confusion. “We’re just heading to that little cottage up the way. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Rose smiles politely, “thanks. Just zoned out for a second.”

\--

“Anyone in?” the Doctor calls, peering through the triangular glass of the house. No one answers, of course, just the silence of the boarded-up windows. If Rose closes her eyes, she can feel something in their air. A light humming slips through the wooden panels, like the melody of an old familiar song. Looking at the others’ faces, Rose can tell that she’s the only one who notices. By now, she’s used to knowing things that she shouldn’t, to feeling things that shouldn’t be possible. Things like the turn of the Earth.

The Doctor pulls out her sonic. “Quick look? Set our minds at rest. Rose?”

“Go for it.”

\--

“Hi there,” Rose quips to the child sitting inside the wardrobe, trying to keep her tone light. “Sorry for breaking into your house. Didn’t look like anyone was home.” The kid turns a little towards the sound, but her face is covered with dark glasses and a scarf. Rose feels the sudden need to reach out and _feel,_ as if her eyes aren’t enough anymore. Her vision turns to static for a moment, like a television that’s lost connection. _Blind. She’s blind._

“We want to help. What’s your name?” the Doctor asks bluntly.

Stiffening, the child tucks herself back into the closet, and Rose sends the Doctor a sideways look. Apparently, no version of the Doctor is good with people. “I’m Rose. I’m really sorry that we’ve just come barging in here. I’m just a bit worried about you, all alone like this. Does anyone else live here?”

The kid is silent for a couple seconds before shrugging her shoulders. “My dad.”

“Where’s your dad now, sweetheart?” Yaz asks.

She frowns a little, tugging the scarf away from her face. There’s an anxious way to the movements of her fingers as she fumbles with the fabric of it. Slowly, she moves to get out of the closet. Rose, weary of the girl’s lack of sight, braces her hands out in front of her, not smothering, but just close enough to catch her if she falls. _She can’t see,_ she mouths to the Doctor’s questioning glance. “He’s gone. It’s just me.”

The words are eerily similar to those same ones Rose had spoken to the Doctor when she’d first arrived. It sends a pang straight through her spine, pushing the air out of her lungs. No one else seems to notice. “What happened to him?” she asks, praying to a God she doesn’t believe in that this isn’t another child without anyone to take care of them.

“The thing took him. The thing my Dad’s been protecting the house from.”

“What kind of thing?” the Doctor asks, sounding inappropriately intrigued. The lack of tact should make Rose press her teeth together, and it does, but it mostly makes her miss John. Fuck, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “What did it look like?” _She can’t see,_ she wants to shout, but she just settles for a small shake of her head in the Doctor’s direction.

“What’s your name?” Yaz asks when the girl doesn’t respond.

“Hanne,” she replies, sliding the glasses off her face and into her pocket.

“Are you blind, Hanne?” the Doctor questions softly, surprising Rose with the softness of her voice. Maybe this Doctor is a bit better with people than Rose had given her credit for.

“Please, help me find my dad.”

__

There’s a roaring coming from outside the cottage, but Rose doesn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. She supposes that she could be mistaken, of course. The sight of Hanne, rocking back and forth under the table and muttering to herself, sure didn’t make Rose think that she’s been making anything up.

More than that, though, is the mirror that Rose is looking into. Well, it would be a mirror, if she could see her own reflection in it. The humming that she had heard earlier gets louder and louder until it’s hard to focus on much else. This mirror isn’t _right._ If she closes her eyes and thinks _very hard,_ she can feel something pulling her towards it.

“Why can’t I see myself?” Ryan asks. Rose hadn’t noticed him walking up behind her – probably because she couldn’t see either of them in the reflection. Tentatively, he reaches a hand out to the glass, and Rose puts her own out to stop him.

“Careful. I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

“Did I miss something? Are we vampires now? I probably would have noticed that, right?” Rose laughs at that, despite herself. Ryan’s a bit funny, and it’s starting to grow on her. She closes her eyes again, focusing on the pull of the mirror and trying to discern what it might be. 

“Get away from the mirror, both of you,” the Doctor calls, but Rose doesn’t open her eyes. The humming still grows louder.

She holds up a hand, trying to get the Doctor to stay away without having to say so. “This mirror… it leads somewhere else. Another Earth.” Her voice sounds far away to her own ears.

“Rose, keep back!” There are hands pulling at her shoulders now, tugging her away even as she tries to shrug them off. A whirring noise vibrates through the air, this time obviously not only in Rose’s head. With a gasp, her eyes fly open to watch as a crack of light appears down the mirror. The Doctor points her sonic at the offending object, breathing heavily. Her other hand is wrapped tightly around Rose’s wrist. “You almost walked right into it,” she pants.

Sighing, Rose gently tugs her hand away to wipe at the sweat on her brow. She’s suddenly quite warm, and her heart is pounding. “I can take care of myself,” she whispers. Internally, she curses herself, because she’d meant that to come out a lot stronger. The mirror seems a lot farther away than it used to be. She doesn’t remember moving.

“Are you alright? You’re swaying,” the Doctor says, and her hands come up arounds Rose’s waist. Her fingers flex a few times around the swell of her hips. The contact is innocent enough, but the intimacy of it still clears some of the fog from Rose’s mind.

“M’fine.” But the room is still swimming a bit, so she lets herself lean further into the Doctor’s hold, against her better judgement.

“That noise. Was it the thing outside?” Hanne asks.

“No,” Rose says, even as her eyes flutter closed. “It was this mirror. I think it’s some kind of portal.”

Yaz laughs nervously from the left side. “When you say a portal…”

Rose wants to answer, she really does, but every word she says seems to take even more oxygen from her lungs. In the back of her mind, she tries to ignore the fact that the Doctor somehow still smells exactly like John. One hand leaves her waist, and the Doctor’s sonic whirs to life again. “It’s a doorway to another world, or dimension, or something,” she deducts, her hand clenching the cotton of Rose’s shirt. She sounds scared of something.

“What are you talking about?” Hanne begs, rushed and desperate.

“I know. Big thing to find out. I should’ve broken it to you a bit more gently. But Rose is acting all weird, and frankly, it’s got me a tad distracted.” Rose hums, tilting her head back until it falls into the Doctor’s shoulder. They’re almost the same height now. Height, fright, delight. The other woman inhales sharply behind her. Rose wonders if perhaps the Doctor has hurt herself, and that’s why her hearts are beating so quickly against Rose’s back. Maybe the Doctor needs to take a break. To rest.

Rose would very much like to take a break as well. To rest.

“Whatever’s in the woods, could it have come through this portal?” Graham asks. No, no. That’s all wrong. Barmy humans, always making assumptions at the worst of times. Humans.

“There’s nothing in the woods,” Rose gets out, barely able to hold herself up anymore. “It’s not real.”

“I think I need to take a proper look at that mirror. Or, portal. Whatever,” the Doctor says. “And you, Rose Tyler, stay awake. Come on, you’re worrying me.”

With great effort, Rose straightens herself out, nearly having to pry her eyelids open. “M’fine,” she repeats, her words slurring together. Everything in her wants to walk to the mirror, wants to step into the mirror. Her field of vision narrows until everything except the portal blurs out of existence. _Another world,_ she thinks. _It could be my world._ That would explain why it felt like something was calling her towards it. “It won’t be safe.”

“No, probably not. It’s a juddering dimensional portal in a mirror in a Norwegian bedroom,” the Doctor admits. Her eyes, intense as ever, are locked in on Rose’s face.

“I’m coming with you,” Yaz says.

“Me too.” Graham.

“So am I.” Ryan. Lord, these new friends of the Doctor’s sure are loyal.

“And me,” Hanne says. Oh, there’s no way that one’s going to fly. “Whatever’s happening, I’m staying with you.”

“I can’t let you do that, Hanne. I don’t know what’s through there. You’re safe here. Your dad made sure of that. Ryan and Rose will stay here with you.”

“Oh, what?” Ryan asks, his eyes large and pleading. Rose spins on her feet, teetering slightly, to stare accusingly at the Doctor. There’s no way she’s getting left behind when her own universe could be behind that mirror. Her own Earth could be just a short trip away. And why not? Stranger things have happened.

“Not him,” Hanne says.

“Hey, what’s that for?”

“Fat chance I’m staying here.” Rose frowns, crossing her arms. She swallows some of the nausea from earlier, determined to make her case. “You’re not dumping me in Norway _again.”_

The Doctor opens and closes her mouth several times like she’s searching for something to say. “I’m not _dumping_ you anywhere. You look sick, Rose. And if you think I’m not coming back, you’ve got another thing coming. I’ve got questions for you, missy. Like how you just happened to know that that thing was a portal.”

Anger fizzes inside Rose like a shaken soda can begging to explode. She can’t even _fathom_ where the Doctor gets the nerve to say shit like that. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. I can take care of myself, and I can make my own decisions. I’m going through that portal, whether you like it or not.”

“That’s you told,” Ryan says. Rose had forgotten there were other people in the room, honestly, too wrapped up in a seemingly one-sided battle with the person she used to consider her best friend.

The Doctor shoots him a look, but she doesn’t say anything else on the matter. On the wooden sloping ceiling, she starts scratching something out with chalk. There are a few short scraping noises as she marks the panelling. “This is a map of the house with its most vulnerable points. Make sure you take care of them.”

Recognizing that tone of voice, Rose squints to read what she’s actually written. _Assume her dad is dead. Keep her safe. Find out who else can take care of her._

“What’s your dad called, Hanne?” Rose asks, feeling guilty.

“Erik. You will find him, won’t you?”

“I’ll do everything I can,” the Doctor says. She holds out her hand out. Rose pretends not to notice, taking Yaz’s hand instead before starting headlong into the unknown.

\--

They’re deep into the tunnels now, following Ribbons with the kind of faith that the Doctor is pretty sure he doesn’t deserve. But she’s not got another way through these dingy corridors, and she did promise Hanne that she would figure out what happened to her dad. “I’ve totally lost my bearings. It’s like some kind of maze, this,” Yaz says.

Out of the corner of her eye, the Doctor watches Rose trailing along behind them. She’s looking a lot better than earlier, but her skin is still quite pale. “Is this where you saw Erik?” she asks Ribbons, still not letting Rose leave her sights.

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Ribbons presents your weakest negotiating position.”

“What are you saying?” Rose asks, furrowing her brow.

“Sadly, you have no umbilical.” The Doctor looks down at the tattered remains of her string. She sighs, holding up the frayed end.

“No Erik, no sonic.” It’s not like she’s going to give him the sonic either way, but it’s better if he believes he’s missing out on some kind of giant deal.

“Oh.” Ribbons pauses in thought for a moment, before pulling a second blade and grabbing Rose around the neck. White hot terror floods the Doctor’s system as Ribbons presses his blade against the side of Rose’s throat. It doesn’t draw blood, but just the flash of the metal next to her skin sending the Doctor’s hearts into a flurry. She clutches her sonic in between trembling fingers, running dangerous calculations in her head to see what it would take to get it to work as a weapon. Maybe not the best example to set for Yaz and Graham, but there’s no part of her that’s willing to sacrifice any part of Rose Tyler just for a moral high ground.

“That was a mistake.” She’s not sure what she’s going to do about this yet, but she knows it’s not going to end well for Ribbons. She’s never done well with people threatening Rose Tyler. “Let her go. Last chance.”

“All we have here is such renegotiation. You have no way home. I can show you, but such delicious showing costs more.”

“God, you smell horrible,” Rose says, her body completely still. Suddenly, she grabs the hand that’s holding the knife and drives her head back into Ribbons’ chin. Howling, he hunches over, and Rose breaks free. She levels Ribbons’ knife with his nose as he recovers from the first blow. “Try that again. I dare you.”

Okay. That was new.

That was kind of exciting.

“Holy _shit,”_ Yaz says, “that was badass.” Rose shoots a tiny appreciative smile her way before offering her Ribbons’ knife, handle first. She takes it and slides it into her jacket pocket while avoiding the Doctor’s questioning look.

“Flesh moth is following,” Ribbons mutters, clutching at his injured face. “We must get rid of it of more will come. Final rat. Not biting.” The moth flutters around the lantern as more gather on the rock ledges.

“Can’t we ditch the lantern?” Yaz asks.

“No. Dark is worse,” Ribbon replies.

The Doctor looks at the hoards of moths gathering around them, still trying to gather her bearings after seeing Ribbons grab Rose like that. “What is this place?”

“Antizone,” Rose and Ribbons say together, and the surprise of that is not quite enough to overshadow the alarm of the revelation itself.

“Oh, no.”

“Is this a good thing, or a bad thing?” Yaz looks around as the five of them crowd closer together.

“An antizone is a thing the universe makes wherever the fabric of Space-Time is threatened. Like a protective buffer zone to keep threats at bay. And we’re in the middle of it. How did you get here, Ribbons?”

“Always been here.”

The same noise that the mirror had made earlier, that jarring, ugly noise, fills the tunnel. Graham lets out a startled yell as the Doctor jumps nearly a foot in the air, reaching instinctively for Rose’s arm. They make brief eye contact, but then the Doctor snaps her head away, letting her hands linger for a moment before she stuffs them back into her pockets.

“What’s happening?” Yaz shouts over the noise, her forearms covering her ears. The lantern goes out beside them, submerging the tunnel in damp darkness. The Doctor suddenly wishes she hadn’t let go of Rose.

Blinking, she lets her eyes adjust to the new lighting. From the distance, she can hear the flutter of wings, growing stronger each moment.

“Flesh moths summoning its swarm. Signal kills my lantern Too many will come now! You should run. My tubular now!” Ribbons calls, snatching the Doctor’s sonic and starting to run. Ordinarily, something like that would worry the Doctor, but she’s currently got a lot on her mind. The oncoming flesh moths, for one. Graham, fortunately, handles this one for her, flooring Ribbons with a rugby tackle that sends the sonic flying.

“No you don’t, sunshine! How’s that for an old codger, hey, two knives?” he asks, holding the little creature against the stone ground. 

“Silence. They are here,” Ribbons commands. The fluttering of wings has consumed the silence around them while the moths move in on the increasingly panicked group. Choosing to listen to her heart rather than her brain for once, the Doctor wraps Rose’s hand in her own, tightly enough that the other woman can’t pull away. Now is not the time for silly pretences.

“Stop moving,” Rose says, just as Ribbons spots the sonic laying on the ground and lunges for it.

“No, Ribbons, don’t!” the Doctor shouts, eyes wide, but it’s too late; the moths launch themselves at Ribbons, ensnaring him in a knot of wings and fur. Yaz makes a noise of distress as Ribbons falls to the ground, and the four of them watch, distressed, as the skin is ripped from his bones. She can’t help but feel bad that Yaz and Graham have to see this in real time, with them being so new and everything, but she also knows that they aren’t faint of heart. The Doctor darts forward to grab her sonic, pulling Rose with her. “Nice and quiet. Now run!”

The four of them dash for the light ahead, hoping it’s the other side of the portal. Whatever’s through that mirror, it can’t be worse than the hordes of flesh-eating moths. The Doctor keeps herself solidly attached to Rose, relishing in the wind on her face as they run together. In the back of her mind, she hopes that the world they find when they go through isn’t Rose’s world. She pauses a moment after Yaz and Graham dive through, watching the moths gain on them and thinking about Ribbons’ defleshed skeleton, but Rose pulls her through before anything can come of it.

\--

Stumbling on her feet, the Doctor flashes her sonic at the portal, shutting the flesh moths out. “I think we’re safe now,” she sighs, letting her and Rose’s conjoined hands swing in the space between them. Rose doesn’t seem to notice the fact that they’re still connected, or perhaps she’s too busy studying their surroundings to really worry about it. The Doctor takes a look too, noting that the writing on the sloping ceiling has disappeared, and that the room is much brighter than before. _Sunlight. The windows aren’t boarded up anymore,_ her brain supplies.

“Hey, have they moves things around in here? Everything looks different,” Yaz observes, turning to glance at the portal suspiciously.

“We’re on the other side of the mirror,” Rose says, confirming the Doctor’s suspicions.

“How can that be?” Graham asks.

The Doctor checks out the furniture – the room is laid out like a reflection of the room they had just been in. “That wasn’t the same portal we came in through. That’s why everything so backwards,” she says as she gives Rose’s hand a squeeze. As if coming to her senses, the other girl pulls her own hand free and rubs it a few times on the cloth of her jeans. The Doctor tries not to look dismayed, instead heading towards the door. “Let’s go see if we can find Erik, huh?”

\--

“Hello, Erik,” Rose calls to the man standing at the kitchenette. He spins around with a start, brandishing his rolling pin in front of him like a weapon. “I have a lot of questions for you.”

He backs up into the counter, his eyes wide and his face ashen. “How do you know my name? What are you doing in my house?” Erik asks.

The Doctor squints to read his t-shirt, but the logo appears to be reversed. Looking around the kitchen, she can see that this room is backwards as well, right down to the angle of the chairs at the dining table. “What are you doing in you house? And how can this be your house, Erik? It can’t be, can it?” she accuses, her eyes flickering to the rolling pin that he’s still threatening them with.

“Who are you people?”

In one swift move, Rose snatches the rolling pin out of his grasp, smacking the wood with the palm of her hand. “Enough of this, Erik. We’ve just been through the antizone. You know the one, with the giant skin-eating moths? It was kind of horrible. But what I really want to know is why you abandoned your daughter on the other side of that mirror,” she says, taking one menacing step forward.

“Hanne’s not abandoned.”

“Oh yes she is, mate,” Graham says, “she’s scared and hungry and thinks you’ve been abducted.”

“She’s a teenager. There’s food in the freezer. She’s fine without me.”

Rose steps forward again until they’re nearly nose to nose, dropping the rolling pin to the ground. It bounces once with a very loud clatter, and Erik flinches back into himself. Rose doesn’t even blink. “Tell me why you did it.”

“Did what?” he stutters, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallows with nervousness.

Rose slaps her hand down against the countertop, and Erik whole face scrunches up at the impact. “Tell me why you made those recordings so that your teenaged daughter would think there was a _monster_ running around in the woods outside her house.”

The Doctor feels like she should intervene at this point, mostly because Erik looks like he’s about to wet himself, but she’s pretty sure Rose would bite her head off if she tried it. Once again, she’s thrown by how much Rose knows about things that she shouldn’t know about. The antizone, or the fact that the wasn’t really ever a monster outside of Hanne’s cottage.

“It’s just so that she doesn’t go up into the hills! So that she’s safe! I promise I’ll go back soon, I promise!” he shouts, trying his hardest to tilt his face away from Rose’s. She grabs his chin in her hands and forces him to look her in the eye, their height difference be damned. In that moment, the Doctor isn’t sure what to do. The tension in the air is so thick that you could cut it with a knife, and she’s worried that Rose is about to do something that she’ll regret. She doesn’t recognize Rose Tyler right now – all steely eyes and red cheeks and menacing scowls.

Finally, Rose takes a step back, releasing Erik’s face with a harsh jab to the left. The Doctor lets out a breath of relief. “You don’t just leave your family! That’s not love!” she cries, her hands bunched in fists at her sides. In one second, she’s gone from fierce warrior to sad little girl, somehow looking more nineteen than she ever had before.

“It’s fine! You all can go now, you can,” Erik says.

The Doctor moves to touch Rose again, just to offer her comfort, but she turns away.

_You don’t just leave your family._

_I’m so sorry, Rose._

“I’m going to hit him,” Graham says, very matter of fact, his eyes sparking with annoyance.

“No, you’re not. I am,” Yaz interjects. Erik, dumbfounded, looks between them and then back to Rose, who is now looking like she’d really rather not be here. The Doctor thinks that maybe Graham could have been bluffing, but Yaz looks rather determined, and the Doctor isn’t that far from getting a lick in herself.

“Nobody’s going to hit anyone,” she says, before she can change her mind, “long day. Flesh moths and antizones. Now, who else is here, Erik? Who don’t you want us to see?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

A woman’s cardigan is draped over one of the chairs, and there are two coffee mugs soaking in the sink. More obvious than that, two plates on the table. “Yes, you do. Two plates.” Erik’s gaze darts over to the offending objects just before his face falls completely.

The curtains hanging over the doorway rustle, and a petite brunette woman pokes her head through. “Hi. I’m Trine, Erik’s wife,” she says as all eyes move to her.

“Erik! You got mirror married!”

“That’s Hanne’s mum,” Rose whispers, barely more than a breath of air. She looks faint again, using the countertop to hold up her weight. Her eyelids flutter a couple times, and her chest heaves with a shuddering breath. “Who else is here?”

“You alright, love?” Graham asks. He frowns at Rose’s drooping form, extending an arm for her to hold onto. And, much to the Doctor’s discontent, she does so without hesitation. “Hanne’s mum’s dead, you can’t be her.”

Trine smiles slightly, and surprisingly, she doesn’t look like she’s trying to hide anything in the slightest. “In your world, I am dead. But not here. I mean, I died. I remember it. But here I am.”

“She can’t leave,” Erik says, wrapping his arms around his wife’s waist. “We’ve tried, but she can’t go through the mirror. I know I stayed away from Hanne for too long, but I kept thinking, what if I go, and I can’t come back? I can’t lose Trine again.”

“You’ve got to get your priorities straight, mate. Your daughter needs you. Come on,” Graham pleads. Rose is almost leaning on him fully now, and the Doctor just aches to hold her in her arms.

“Who else is here?” Rose repeats before doubling over with a soft whimper that sends pangs through the Doctor’s hearts. Graham pats her back lightly, cocking his eyebrow at the Doctor in concern. She shrugs back at him, alarm bells going off in her head. “I can feel someone else here. It’s… something’s not right. It _hurts._ ” Rose pulls herself up, using Graham’s arm to still her slight wobble before standing firm on her own two feet.

Pointing out towards the garden, Trine says, “Don’t you want to see your friends?”

“What are you talking about?”

“They got here when you did.”

\--

Even though she’s getting weaker with every step, she assures Graham that she doesn’t need him to hold her up anymore. She’s been doing this on her own for centuries, after all. It’s just that she can sense _something_ lurking outside the cottage, and while she can normally handle sensing small things, this is something much larger. This is something that shouldn’t exist. Lace curtains hang on a washing line, swaying softly in the dreamlike breeze. Behind the curtains, a woman’s voice is singing sweetly.

“All right?” the Doctor asks Graham, and Rose notes how his face has gone slack.

“I know that sound,” he says. Breaking away from the group, he disappears behind the washing. Rose considers going after him for a moment, grateful for his earlier support, but something catches her eye. Up ahead, in the rows of tall grass, a man stands, watching.

Impossible.

Her feet start moving before she can rationalise what’s happening, and she’s running with vigour she certainly didn’t have a moment ago, not looking to see whether or not the Doctor and Yaz are following behind. “John!” she yells, joyous energy overcoming the pure exhaustion that had nearly just overcome her. The man’s face breaks out in a grin so wide that it looks like his face will split in half, and he opens up his arms just as Rose barrels into him. Laughing, he picks her up and spins her three times before setting her down. Rose presses her face as far into his chest as she possibly can, even though her tears are bound to soak through the cotton of his shirt. “John,” she repeats, sobbing as he plants a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I’m here.” That voice. _Oh, that voice._ Everything in her had been aching to hear that voice for lifetimes, and she feels it float in through her ears and encircle her rapidly beating heart. “I’m here, Rose. I don’t understand it, but I’m here now.”

“How?” she chokes out, too afraid to pull back from his body just in case he were to disappear.

“I don’t know. I remember our last days together, Rose. I remember dying. But now I’m here, and I’m young again. I just don’t get it.”

Rose nods into his chest, sniffing in an effort to halt her cries. “I love you,” she whispers.

John shifts backward, forcing Rose to look at him. “I love you so much,” he says, moving his hands to cup her cheeks and staring into her eyes. Those brilliant eyes.

Humming. Almost like a song. It’s back again, hovering in the air around Rose and her husband. And it’s right then that Rose knows that this can’t be real.

It’s also right then that Rose decides that it doesn’t matter.


	6. VI

“That can’t be Grace. Can it?” Yaz asks.

“No,” the Doctor confirms, staring straight ahead at Rose as she embraces the other Doctor. It reminds her of the choices she’s made, and if such a reunion would have ever been needed if she had made different ones. She turns to address Trine. “And you can’t be Erik’s wife.”

“I know. But we are, aren’t we?”

Yaz nods once, looking torn, before nodding to the couple swaying together in the grass. “Is that supposed to be your clone, Doctor? The one Rose was with on the other Earth?”

“Yeah,” the Doctor says. She’s doing a horrible job at not sounding bitter. “That’s him.”

“They look so happy.”

She thinks it’s probably in her best interest to just not respond.

\--

“But why?” the Doctor wonders, nearly pacing a hole in the carpeting as she studies the mirror that started all of this. “Why has the Solitract copied your world, including Grace and Trine and Joh, and built a doorway to our universe?”

“When you put it like that, it sounds like a trap,” Yaz says.

\--

“Rose, we’ve got to go.” The Doctor’s voice forces Rose to break away from her embrace with John, and she can feel the loss of it. She takes in as much air as possible as John links their hands together, steeling herself for what she’s about to say.

“I’m not going anywhere without John.”

“Yes, you are. Because that’s not John. No offense, mate.”

He smiles down at the Doctor and shakes his head once. “None taken, I suppose.” Rose brings over her other hand so that she can hold one of his hands in both of hers. He’s warm to the touch, and his skin feels just the way she remembers. Calloused, but still soft, with a light dusting of hair across the knuckles.

“I’ve been through this with Graham. He’s not real, Rose. I’m sorry, but he can’t come.”

She looks up into John’s kind eyes. “I know he isn’t.”

Blinking in confusion, the Doctor splutters a few times. “Then what’s the matter? We’ve got to go. There’s not a lot of time.”

“I’m staying.”

“What?”

“I might not be the real John, but I look the same. I think the same. I’ve got all the right memories.”

“That’s mad, Rose! Come on, let’s go! You know this isn’t right.”

“And why can’t it be right? When you dropped us off on Bad Wolf Bay, I said all of that about John. And you told me everything that we’re trying to say to you right now. This might not be the original John, but it’s still _John._ He’s still my husband.”

“Rose!” Yaz pants, rushing up to join them. It grabs Rose’s attention, because she’d forgotten who she was here with, in a way that anchors her to the truth of the situation. “Come on, we’ve got to move. This is a trap, and you know it.”

“I don’t care!” she shouts. The tears have started again, and she lets John wrap his arms around her again. He tangles one big hand in her hair, holding her head against his chest in comfort. “I don’t care.”

“Don’t be daft,” the Doctor says, an echo of how Rose had insulted he days ago, scowling at the two of them. Rose shakes with the force of a new wave of tears, because she knows it’s true. She’s being an idiot, a stupid, sentimental human, one that Rose thought she’d left behind years ago. She feels John’s arms stiffen around her.

“Oi, don’t talk to my wife like that.”

“She’s not your wife!”

“She’s more my wife than she’ll _ever_ be your wife!”

\--

The Doctor glares at up that man who used to be her double, except that this _thing_ isn’t even him. But he’s still right. However fake and deceitful this version of the Solitract is, it still has the face of the man that Rose loves. It’s still closer to John than the Doctor will ever be. Still, though, she wants to reach up and smack the self-righteous expression right off his face. She wants to pull Rose from his arms and steal her away back to the _real world._

“Enough of that, the two of you. Blimey,” Yaz says. That’s really all the Doctor needs to hear, because truthfully, she’s got no business fighting with someone who isn’t even real. Not to mention fighting over a girl that she has no claim over.

“Both of you, inside. Now,” she nearly spits, sneering at their twined hands. “I won’t argue about it.”

\--

In retrospect, the Doctor is fairly sure she’d handled that situation poorly. She’s never really been one to showcase her emotions to the people around her – not with any face. And, in the moment, she’d thought that she had been doing a grand job of acting nonchalant about the whole _Rose’s husband is here_ thing. Her side glances and snide comments were very inconspicuous, she’d believed.

But that’s the thing about hindsight. It’s always twenty-twenty.

Either way, it’s hard now to focus on reopening the portal when fake-John and Rose are basically… _snogging_ off to the side. Well, they’re not snogging, but they’re very close together. Distractingly close. And it really shouldn’t hurt that much, because this is just Rose being semi-reunited with the man she’s been missing and mourning for God knows how long. It’s not like it’s real; the Doctor knows she’ll find a way to get Rose through the portal eventually. This isn’t a permanent thing. But watching the adoring look on Rose’s face – the same one that used to be reserved for the Doctor herself – feels like getting punched in the gut seven times over. But if Rose Tyler is going to be kissing someone, it may as well be _some_ version of the Doctor. It’s not like she could kiss her herself. There are… rules. Not spoken ones, of course, but the Doctor’s own personal rules. Rules that kept her from saying things, kept her from doing things. Rules meant to keep the Doctor safe from the very things which had the power to driver her mad. Rules that lead to moments like _does it need saying?_

Besides, it’s not like Rose would event want to kiss the real Doctor. She had made it perfectly clear that she’s moved on. Perhaps it’s high time the Doctor follows her lead.

Looking over at John and Rose’s intertwined hands, she thinks that it maybe won’t be that easy. “I think we’re good to go,” she says, watching as the mirror’s solid surface ripples with light.

“Nice work, Doctor,” Yaz compliments as she places a bracing hand on the crook of the Doctor’s arm. Questioningly, she turns her head to meet with her friend’s soft eyes. Yaz squeezes her elbow once and smiles sadly before retracting her comfort. Her eyes shift between Rose and John, who are conversing softly, and the Doctor. The Time Lord curses herself internally, because if Yaz can see that this whole situation is affecting her, then she’s not doing a good enough job of seeming unfazed. 

“Thank you,” she says, hoping that Yaz will sense the double meaning. “I do my best. Graham, Erik, Rose, time to go.” She keeps her eyes trained on the latter, silently pleading with her not to argue. It’s hard to see a way out of this situation; she’s facing three heartbroken humans who have suddenly gained the ones they’ve loved and lost.

“Come on, love,” Graham says, tugging grace by the hand.

Yaz shakes her head tightly. “Graham, you heard what the Doctor said.”

“Grace, _come on.”_

“I’m not sure,” not-Grace says. She bites her lip in hesitation.

“You can’t stay, Graham,” Rose whispers as she leans her head against John’s pinstriped arm. “This world isn’t stable. You could be hurt.”

“So, you’re coming?” the Doctor grins madly, showing both rows of teeth like a shark.

“No.”

“But you just said-”

“I know what I said.”

They stand across from each other in momentary silence, the others looking pointedly away from the feuding pair. “I can’t hold it much longer. We have to go.”

“Then go.”

“Not without you. Never without you.”

That seems to spring something within Rose, and her eyes go very big and suspiciously bright. For a moment, it looks like she’s going to change her mind, but then everything goes a bit sideways, and Hanne comes dashing through the mirror. “What are you doing here?” she gasps.

“Hanne, it’s me,” Erik says while the portal grinds and closes behind her.

“I heard my dad!”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here,” he whispers, pulling her close. She pushes her face harshly into his chest, and he holds her there with the palm of his hand.

The Doctor points the sonic at the portal, changing the settings frantically in the hopes of opening the breach once more. But the glass stays solid and unrelenting under all possible scrutiny. She can see John press his forehead against Rose’s tenderly, and she pounds her fist against the mirror twice. To try to get the portal open, of course. “The portal’s adapted again. I can’t open it.”

“I’ve got a surprise for you. It’s your mum, Hanne. She’s alive.” And _oh,_ doesn’t that just _smart._ Truly the life of the party, here’s _Erik,_ trying to muck things up as much as possible. But it’s okay, because Hanne sees through the façade of it all, and she’s shunning the faux-Trine away with the turn of her cheek. The Doctor is very quickly beginning to feel like she’s no longer got any control left in this situation.

Especially because the room has now started to shake. Quite violently.

“Ryan? Ryan!” Hanne calls. As if things couldn’t get worse.

“Ryan’s not here,” Yaz says. The Doctor looks frantically between all the figures in the room; there are too many people here to focus on just one interaction. And it’s even tougher when her eyes automatically drift towards the intertwined forms of Rose and John, suspiciously quiet through all of this. “Wait, was Ryan in the antizone with you?”

“He’s still in here with those things,” Hanne replies. Bad. Very bad. Ryan and flesh moths. Oh dear.

Graham gapes at the young girl for a moment before turning to the Doctor. “Well, get it… get it open. We’ve got to help him.”

“No!” Grace shouts. All eyes in the room turn to her as the room gives another angry rumble.

Graham blinks in surprise. “What do you mean, no?”

“The world is falling apart. We can’t all stay here,” Rose whispers, somehow managing to make it sound like she’s only addressing John even though she’s speaking to everyone in the room. He leans down to luck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Erik might have been manageable, but there’s way too many of us now. You and us? Incompatible. You’ve gone over capacity. You need to let us go now,” the Doctor says to John. “You need to let her go now.” Maybe that last part wasn’t specifically necessary.

“You’re mental,” John laughs. “I’m not the one doing this.”

“Oh, don’t start with me. Of course you are. You’re made of Solitract energy. You all are. Hanne can sense it. And I think you can too, Rose,” she says, wanting to reach out and touch her, but not willing to risk further rejection. The girl in question won’t look at her. “My question is, _why?_ What did you build all this for? Oh.” She smacks her hand to her forehead. “I’m dumb. Of course! You want the same thing you’ve always wanted. To be with us. So, you’ve build a world you thought we’d like, and taken forms we won’t reject.”

“John wouldn’t do that,” Rose pleads. The Doctor wants to touch her again, but this time to take her by the arms and shake some sense into her.

“That’s the thing! That’s not John! And that’s not Trine, and that’s not Grace.”

Grace frowns at her, giving the distinct impression of an angry schoolteacher. It almost has its desired effect. “Don’t listen to her, love,” she says to Graham.

“Don’t take advantage of him. You’re not Grace. The real Grace was a beautiful smiling superstar. And you know what she was above all else? She was brave. And she’d be leading the charge through that mirror,” Yaz says before rounding on John. “And you! Shame on you, preying on an obviously heartbroken girl. I didn’t know the real John, but I bet that he would have _killed_ you for treating Rose like this. The two of you, absolutely unfor-”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish before Trine throws her arm out, casting a wave of energy that propels Yaz through the mirror. The Doctor calls after her, rushing to try and follow, but the glass is solid once again. “How did I do that?” Trine asks, staring forlornly at her own hands.

“Oh, I think you know.”

“I want to go home,” Hanne whispers to her dad.

“Hanne. Don’t be scared. Erik, tell her it’s okay.”

“No!” Hanne shouts. “You’re not my mum. Whatever you are, I hate you. Now, let me out!” Trine scowls and thrusts her arms out once again, sending Hanne flying across the room and through the portal. The suddenness of it all throws the Doctor for a loop, but she understands now that this is their best chance of survival. She needs the other to be cast out as well. Preferably, but most unlikely, starting with Rose.

“Graham and Rose. You need to get through that portal. You know what to do. Ryan is out there, and this place is collapsing in.”

“I’m staying here,” Rose stands firm.

“Me, too. I know what you’re asking, Doc, I do. It’s just that… I can’t. I can’t do it.”

The whole place shakes again at his words, tremors nearly sending the Doctor sprawling across the floor. “They’re not who they say they are. They’re furniture, with pulses.”

“Shut up!” Rose shouts over the rumblings. “Just shut up!”

“Rose, we’re all going to die if we stay.”

“Then you go. Both of you, go.”

“Don’t leave me, love. Not again,” Grace says, grasping at Graham’s arm.

“What about Ryan? He’s in trouble out there, love.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s a smart lad.”

The walls start to crack with the force of the next jolt. Graham stands in silence for a moment, staring at the woman who has been masquerading as his wife. “You were so close. You see, Grace would never let me leave Ryan in danger. You’re a fake. I wish you weren’t, but you are.”

Looking surprisingly stricken, Grace throws out a blast of energy to send Graham through the portal before her physical body dissolves in a swirling mass of shimmering helixes. “Oh, Grace,” the Doctor sighs. Erik gapes at the spot where she used to stand. “Now do you see? This woman is _clearly_ an alien force collapsing two realities and impersonating your dead wife. Time to move on, mate.”

“But I can’t.”

“No. Of course you can’t. Fine. Congratulations,” she says to the Solitracts. “Erik wants you. Rose wants you. Just one thing, though. This world is falling apart. You can’t keep two of us, let alone three. They’re not your best option, I can promise you that. The Solitract wants a whole universe. Someone who has seen it all, and that’s me. I’ve lived longer, seen more, loved more, and lost more. I can share it with you. Anything you want to know about what you never had. Let them go, and I will tell you everything.”

“No,” Rose says, “Keep me. You want stories? I’ve got plenty. I’ve got centuries worth of stories. We could both give you that. But you want more, don’t you? You want to be _loved._ She can’t give you that. But I can. I’ve lost my husband. I’ve lost my _son._ I have so much love for them, _so much damn love,_ and the Doctor doesn’t have any of that. I could love you, too.” Both Trine and John look at her with contemplative eyes. The Doctor needs a second to catch up, trying to work out what in Rassilon’s name just happened. Panic starts to bubble up in the bottom of her stomach, but before she can muster up a good counter argument, John sends both her and Erik through the portal without a second look.

The last thought on her mind is _Rose Tyler._

\--

The vicious tremors come to a sudden stop as Rose watches beams of light come in through the slats in the roof. She blinks slowly, and when she opens her eyes, there’s just a simple white landscape all around. In front of Rose, her husband.

“I thought I would stay like this,” he grins, “My own form is endless, but I can sense the sentimentality you have towards this man. I really do have all his memories, you know. Essentially, I _am_ him.”

“Please don’t say that,” Rose whispers, but she can’t make herself look away from his angular face, “I was wrong about that. I won’t insult my husband’s memory any more than I already have.”

Something flashes in John’s – the Solitract’s – face. “I thought that was what you wanted.”

“It is. I miss my family _so much._ Every day. And that’s the downside of humanity, you see, because where there is love, there’s also loss. One can’t exist without the other. And I can never go back; I can never make it better. So, if this is the last chance I have to see him again, then…”

“I understand,” the Solitract whispers, and Rose lets it brush her husband’s lips across her forehead. “Will you tell me about your universe?”

“Well, I lived in two universes, actually,” she replies, her voice tight with emotion. “I wonder how many people can say that.”

It twines their hands together, letting their arms swing back and forth in the space between them. “Ah, yes. Your John, he knows this. So, I know it. Tell me about your favourite one. What does it look like?”

“My favourite universe… It’s got to be the one my son, Jack, was born into. Because the universe is beautiful not just because of the star systems or the asteroid belts, but because of the _people._ And Jack was one of the best people out there. He was kind, and wicked smart, and loving.” Her breaths are heavy now, strained with the effort of trying not to cry.

“If you’d like, I could become him-”

“No! Please, no. That would kill me.”

“As you wish.”

Rose reaches up to touch his face, but stops short, watching her hand flicker ominously in the stark white light. “Do you see that? John, I don’t think you’re in control of this.”

“You’re wrong. This is my plane. I control everything here.”

“This plane is destabilising. I’m killing us both just by being here. Oh God, John, this isn’t working.”

John stares at her faltering form, eyes searching her face with unrestrained panic. “You need to go,” he says.

“What?” She clutches his hands tighter in the grasp of her own. The ground trembles beneath them, but she can hardly feel it.

“You need to go back. You’ll die if you stay.”

“No, no, no. No, John, that wasn’t the deal. Don’t send me away, oh God, please not again. Don’t send me away again. I thought you wanted me here,” she sobs.

“I do. But… I can feel him. I can feel your John. Can feel his love for you. He needs you to be safe, Rose.” John’s cheeks are streaked with thin tear tracks that shine in the bright light. Through her own tears, she tries to memorise the freckles which dot his face and the laugh lines around his eyes.

“God no, I miss you so much, John. I just want to die. _I just want to die!”_

“I can’t let that happen,” he whispers, pulling her close so he can breathe into the blonde locks of her hair. She can feel his hot breaths against her scalp as she presses her face into his suit jacket.

Not again. She can’t go back to the other universe and have to do this all again. Her arms tighten around his thin waist. “I’ve been so lonely.”

“So have I,” he says, resigned. “I think we’ll both just have to be lonely for a little while longer.”

Rose sobs again, feeling like she’d rather do nothing more than stay right here and collapse in on herself like a dying star in the arms of her husband. “I love you.”

“Quite right, too.”

She laughs once, choking on the surprise of it through her tears. “Come off it.”

“I love you, too,” he murmurs softly, cupping her face in his big hands when she pulls back to look at him. And she knows that this thing isn’t John, she really does. But that voice, saying those words she hasn’t heard in such a long time, is almost enough to make her forget again. “I love you so much.”

He leans down to kiss her.

The world goes white.

.

And the universe pulls Rose Tyler away from the man she loves one final time.


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! sorry, i needed time to digest that finale before i focused on anything else doctor who related. that was.... a wild ride!! i actually really enjoyed it, but i know a lot of people didn't, so i will keep my opinions to myself lol. enjoy!!

One moment, the Doctor is staring at the portal, wondering how on Earth she’d let the situation get so far away from her. How could she have lost Rose again, so soon after finding her? But she barely even has time to process the gravity of it all before that same Rose Tyler is thrown through the mirror, hair astray and face ashen. The Doctor whips out her sonic and closes the breach behind her, her arms moving before her brain has the chance to catch up.

“Are we safe?” Hanne asks.

The Doctor stares at her, dumbfounded, unsure how to answer.

“Yes,” Rose says. Her eyes are blank. “I don’t know if the Solitract survived, but I know that it won’t be coming back here.” There’s a long silence as Rose stares out the window, and the rest of them survey her without trying to seem too obvious. Erik eyes what the Doctor wrote on the roof wearily.

\---

The Doctor pilots the TARDIS away from Norway, but she isn’t sure where to go next, so she just leaves it hovering in the Vortex aimlessly. Every move she makes seems to be tinged with hesitancy, probably bleeding over from the fact that she has _no idea what to say to Rose._ It’s an impossible situation, really, because she’s quite socially awkward in this body and it’s like this one can be fixed with a hug and a cuppa.

“She really saved our asses,” Yaz says, watching the Doctor fiddle with one of the control panels. “Rose, I mean. She stopped the Solitract from destroying both worlds.”

“Yeah. She tends to do that.”

Silence. More fiddling with the control panel. Yaz picks at her fingernails.

“Have you talked to her since we got back?”

Sighing, the Doctor turns to her friend with a forlorn look. “No. And I feel awful about it, but I’ve no idea what to say. How do I make this better?”

“I think this is just one of those things that has to suck for a bit.”

Not helpful.

“So, what do I say?”

Yaz puts a hand on her shoulder as the Doctor sticks her lip out in an honest-to-God pout. “Just be there for her. Just be there.”

\---

It takes a bit of searching, but she finally finds Rose sitting in the kitchen, nursing a mug of something that’s definitely long since gone cold. She barely looks up when the Doctor walks in before going back to staring at the patterns in the countertop. Fortunately, it doesn’t look like she’s been crying, but there’s still an air of sadness – no, devastation – around her that makes that Doctor want to simultaneously run away and wrap her up in a tight embrace. She doesn’t think Rose would appreciate either.

“What are you drinking?”

“Hm?” she cocks an eyebrow before shaking her head and holding up the cup. “Oh. I think it was tea, at one point.”

The Doctor contemplates this for a moment before reaching out across the counter to take the cold drink and dump it down the sink. “I think you’re allowed something a bit stronger. We could probably both do with something a bit stronger, I say.” She walks over to the cabinet that she honestly rarely ever opens, the one just above the fridge that she has to stand on her tiptoes to reach now, taking out a tall bottle usually reserved for special occasions.

“The normal stuff won’t have any effect on me anymore,” Rose says, but there’s intrigue colouring her words.

Okay. Probably not the best time to unpack that.

“This isn’t the normal stuff. Too much of this will knock _me_ off my feet.” Rose doesn’t respond, but she takes the glass the Doctor hands her without hesitation. This is something they’ve never done together, mostly because the Doctor’s tenth self (and, honestly, her ninth self) had been scared of the things he might say with lowered inhibitions. Of the things he might do.

But, if there were ever a time for such a thing, it would be now.

“I’m sorry that all that happened,” she says, after they’ve been sipping in silence for a few minutes. They’re probably not the right words, but they’re words she feels need to be said.

“S’not your fault,” Rose mumbles. She stares down into the amber liquid, swirling it around in her cup mindlessly. There’s a significant amount missing, and the Doctor can’t help but think about how the old Rose probably would have been out cold after a few sips of this stuff. “I was the one who wanted to go somewhere. And I was the one who decided to stay behind. That was all on me.”

“Rose?” The younger woman hums in response, taking another swig. “Did you mean what you said to the Solitract about me? About me not being able to love?” Bad Doctor. Not the time. But she’s drank her fair share as well, and her mouth has become a bit loose.

“They were just words, Doctor.”

“Good. Because you know that’s not true, right? You know that I do – that I _did…_ feel… I care about you.” _Coward. Coward, coward._

“They were just words,” she repeats. The Doctor thinks that maybe it’s okay to leave that alone for now. She adds it to the list of things they can talk about later, along with _how old are you,_ and _how did you know all those things you shouldn’t know,_ and, now, _why can’t Earth alcohol get you drunk anymore?_ Rose grabs the bottle and refills both of their glasses, which is good, because it means that she’s not going to leave just yet.

\--

Several drinks later, and they’ve somehow moved rooms to sprawl across one of the couches, having long-since abandoned their glasses in favour of passing the bottle between them. The mood has picked up considerably, and now they’re laughing, and the room is a bit spinny, but it’s unclear whether that’s from the alcohol or from the high of having Rose so close. Because she’s not sure when the other woman found the time to take off her shoes and throw her legs over the Doctor’s lap until she’s practically sitting in it. She isn’t complaining, though. No. “I cannot _believe_ you got married to Queen Elizabeth!” she nearly screeches, tears in her eyes as she tilts her head back over the armrest. Her whole body is convulsing with giggles, and the Doctor finds herself cackling as well, letting her hands rest on Rose’s calves.

“I thought she was a Zygon!” she slurs. Rose snorts at that before falling into another full-fledged fit of laughter. “I swear!”

“I swear!” Rose mocks, clutching her stomach. The ridicule is worth this sight: Rose Tyler, face red with mirth and eyes bright above a toothy smile. Her eyes trace along Rose’s face, not noticing that she’s probably staring for too long until Rose stops laughing entirely. “What?” she asks, sitting up but not removing her legs from where they rest on top of the Doctor’s.

The Doctor traces her fingers along the calve seam of Rose’s jeans, not bothering to think up a proper excuse for her wandering eyes. “I like seeing you like this,” she says instead, because it’s the truth. “You’re very beautiful.” Okay, probably didn’t need that last bit.

Rose laughs stiffly, but she doesn’t back away. “And you’re very drunk.”

“Maybe.”

They stare into each other’s eyes for a while longer, Rose blushing madly and the Doctor incredibly emboldened by the sheer volume of alcohol she’s undertaken. “Well, _I_ am very drunk,” Rose says finally, shifting closer until she’s basically _actually_ sitting sideways on the Doctor’s lap. It makes the Doctor feel her heartbeats right in the bottom of her stomach, and it’s suddenly _extremely_ hard to breathe, because Rose has rested her head in crook of the Doctor’s neck. She can feel her hair ticking the bottom of her nose. “Thank you for not making me talk about it,” she whispers against the Doctor’s collarbone.

And the Doctor sits there, tracing patterns into Rose’s arm with her thumb and counting her breaths until she’s sure the other woman is asleep.

\---

When Rose wakes up the next morning, head fuzzy, the Doctor is still asleep. Which is honestly a big mercy, because Rose is practically sprawled out on top of her, and that would have been an embarrassing conversation. She considers getting up immediately, but gives herself a few selfish moments because the Doctor really does smell like John, even after all this time. It’s not like she’s attracted to this Doctor or anything, that would be silly considering the fact that they’re both women, and Rose has never been remotely interested in women. Never even been curious about it. But she misses John _terribly._

She does feel better than she did last night though, lighter, despite the heaviness of her hangover weighing her down. It was unbelievably hard, seeing him, but not really him, in the Solitract’s dimension. In the moments afterword, Rose had honestly felt like her entire world was going to burn away in a terrible blaze, and she probably would have let it happen. But the Doctor really had pulled through in a very unexpected way. And she’s grateful, she really is, which is why she doesn’t supress the instinct to place a light kiss on the crown of the Doctor’s head as she stands up and heads back into the kitchen.

\---

“I smell pancakes,” a voice calls, and Rose shakes her head in amusement from where she’s flipping the pastries over on the stove. “American style pancakes!”

“It’ll just be a minute,” she says to Ryan as he appears in the doorway.

“Oh,” he says, stopping just short of entering. “Sorry. I thought you were Yaz.”

Rose smiles at him softly, holding the pan up to show him what’s cooking. “That’s alright. I’ve made enough for all of us.” Ryan nods once, stuffing his hands in his pockets a bit awkwardly. Rose can’t blame him, really, because she’s not made much of an effort to connect with the Doctor’s new friends. “Will you get Yaz and Graham? Oh, and also wake up the Doctor. She’s still taking a kip in the lounge.”

“Cool,” Ryan says, turning on his heel to go find his friends.

Rose plates the food and sets out cutlery for the rest of the TARDIS occupants, hoping this gesture of goodwill may help with the whole _extending olive branches_ process. They’re not perfect pancakes; she hasn’t really properly cooked for any number of people in decades, maybe centuries, but they’re not burnt, and she figures enough syrup can fix anything.

“Oh my, it’s bright in here,” the Doctor says as she enters, holding her head between her hands. She looks appraisingly at the food set out across the counter, squint-smiling at Rose as she grabs a fork. “I don’t remember it being this bright in here.”

“Doc… Are you _hung over?”_ Graham asks, looking gobsmacked at Ryan and Yaz as they follow him in. “Like, honestly hung over?”

“My fault,” Rose amends. She cuts a piece out of her pancake, satisfied that she can cut it up without any crunching noises. “Sorry, Doctor.”

“Nah, it was my idea. These pancakes, though. Great idea, Rose Tyler.” They grin at each other for a moment, oblivious to three pairs of eyes staring at them with blatant curiosity.

Yaz clears her throat, and they finally break eye contact, the Doctor now considerably flushed. “Yeah, thanks Rose, these are great,” she says, and Rose wonders what on Earth had changed so quickly that they would be having this conversation over pancakes that _she,_ of all people, made.

The Doctor catches her gaze again, and it’s like they’re laughing at a joke only they understand.

Despite what she’d said to the Solitract, she doesn’t feel all that lonely right now.

\---

As soon as they get the Doctor alone for a moment, Yaz and Ryan are on her like a wet blanket. “Did you two… _you know…_ last night?” Ryan asks, sounding decidedly uncomfortable.

The Doctor raises her eyebrows. “Did we what?”

“ _You know,”_ Ryan says again, and the Doctor looks at Yaz, hopeful that she might look as confused as the Doctor feels, but she’s just staring back with interrogative eyes.

“No, I don’t _know._ Did we get drunk? Yes. We’re both adults. Very much adults, very old, we are. I hardly think that’s newsworthy,” she says, unsure of whether she’s answering the question her friends are asking.

Yaz rolls her eyes. So, that’s a no on that one. “Jesus, Doctor. No, did you guys… God, I can’t believe you’re making me say it. Did you guys _hook up?”_

Did they… Oh. _Oh._ “Yaz! No, we did not… We didn’t… Yugh! Yaz!”

“What? I don’t think it’s that wild of an assumption! You’re always… I don’t know, I think we’re all just a bit tired of the _pining.”_

“I don’t pine,” she whines, crossing her arms defensively. “Besides, Rose and I are just friends, that’s all. And this is all getting a bit too gossipy for my tastes, thank you very much.” What happened to _the Doctor is mysterious,_ and _the Doctor is an enigma?_ What happened to not asking silly questions? Good Lord, it’s like she’s suddenly been thrown back to the days of _do you dance?_

Ryan looks like he’d rather be anywhere else but here, but Yaz definitely has the distinct air of someone who has more to say, so the Doctor puts on her best _shoo_ face and ushers them out of the console room. “Go entertain yourselves with something other than my personal life, please. Not that there’s anything entertaining in my personal life anyways.”


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am adding another chapter because I feel bad that everyone's stuck at home!! Quarantine is literally driving me insane - I think I've reorganised my entire house three times over, and it's only been a week. Also the last one was a little short.  
> Anyways, as you know, I usually don't like updating this fast because I don't want to run out of chapters to post, lol. So I'll most likely be returning to the once-a-week-ish schedule after this.

After last night, they seem to have moved beyond some invisible obstacles that had been keeping them apart. It’s not totally better; Rose’s eyes are still devastatingly sad, and she’s still looking for a way back to her universe, but she laughs more. She spends less time holed up by herself in the library, and more time with the rest of them, telling stories about her solo adventures.

Which are, by the way, quite fascinating. It’s become increasingly hard to stay indignantly concerned about Rose travelling on her own when the stories she has to tell are so damn fantastic. The Doctor watches her as she recounts a wondrous tale involving the alternate universe’s Raxacoricofallapatorius and some wayward fish-like people. She tries to listen to the details of the encounter, because Rose really is a natural storyteller, but her focus keeps shifting to her animated gestures and _beautiful_ tongue-touched smile. It’s all very distracting.

“But what happened to the caretaker?” Yaz asks, practically sitting on the very edge of her seat. She pats her knees a few time anxiously as she stares at Rose with wide eyes, and Graham taps his foot beside her. Obviously, they’ve become enamoured as well, but whether it’s with the story or with Rose, the Doctor isn’t sure.

Rose laughs once. It seems as if she’s unaware of the fact that she’s captured the full attention of the whole room, and she carries on with a certain humble grace. “He missed the whole thing! He didn’t even hear any of the fighting, or anything! When I walked out, right, the whole corridor practically on _fire_ behind me, he was still just singing along to his iPod! It was straight out of a film, I swear.” She cackles wholeheartedly along with the rest of the group. “I’m telling the truth!” she adds at Ryan’s incredulous look, “Honestly!”

“Nah, you’re having us on,” he says, but he’s laughing all the same. Rose throws a piece of popcorn in his direction, hitting him square on the nose as he makes a noise in protest. It’s a good move, a very _Rose Tyler_ move, that has even Graham howling in his seat.

“And you couldn’t even tell anyone?” Yaz asks. “I mean, that’s _crazy!_ Couldn’t you just let _someone_ know what happened?”

Rose contemplates this for a moment, worrying her lip between her teeth slightly. “Well, when I got back to Earth, I told Jack little bits, but you really can’t be sure who’s listening.”

The Doctor makes warning gestures at Ryan, because he sits up in his seat at the confession, but he disregards her entirely and asks what could actually be the _worst_ possible question in the moment. “Who’s Jack?”

“Oh. Jack is… Well, he’s my son." Cursing internally, the Doctor shuts her eyes as the conversation fizzles and stops. And things were going so well. Maybe she should have prepared her friends to not ask… certain questions. But she hadn’t thought Rose would bring it up, of course.

“How’s that, then? How could you have a son? You’re barely twenty,” Graham questions, blissfully unaware of the shift in mood.

“I’m older than I look,” Rose says. She studies her hands as they fiddle around the curve of her teacup. The only sound through the silence is that of her fingers running along the porcelain edge. “A lot older,” she adds, almost to herself.

“And he's why you’re so anxious to get back home?” The Doctor nearly throws her hands up in frustration, wishing she could just shout for everyone to _shut up._

“Nah. He’s, um… he’s gone now. Lived a long life. Like I said, a lot older than I look,” Rose says, still making intense eye contact with the paisley pattern of her cup. It’s a distinct end to the conversation, one even the most clueless of people could pick up on. The Doctor wonders where they’ll go from here. Is Rose about to start crying? Will she storm out of the room, or spend the rest of the night glaring daggers at Ryan for asking in the first place? She opens her mouth after a long pause, and it takes almost all of the Doctor’s willpower to not physically tense up. “Now, tell me about something you’ve all done. What’s this I heard about giant spiders?”

The Doctor sends her a bright look over Ryan’s shoulder. Good. Very good.

\---

Rose looks at the current occupants of the TARDIS, sacked out across the lounge, and smiles softly to herself. She’s still awake, obviously, and she thinks the Doctor probably is as well, even though her eyes are closed, and her breaths are steady. Still, she tries to get up as quietly as possible, so as to not disturb the slumbering humans.

“Hey,” a voice calls softly, and Rose turns around to see Yaz blinking groggily at her. It must have been her mind then, and not the Doctor’s, that Rose had felt edging on consciousness while the others slept. “Where are you going?”

Hoping to avoid one of those awkward conversations that are unpleasant for no other reason than the fact that you barely know who you’re speaking with, Rose says, “Ah, just thought I’d wander around for a bit. The TARDIS is mostly the same, but she’s got some new parts as well. Might as well explore.”

Yaz nods, and Rose thinks that that’ll be the end of it, but then she sits up. “I’m sorry about your family. Must be tough.”

“Yeah. Thanks. It’s alright, though. Been a lot of years.”

“Just because time has passed, doesn’t mean it’s got to hurt any less.” Tugging the throw blanket out from where it’s jammed under Ryan’s thigh, Yaz throws it over her own shoulders like a cloak. Rose supposes that she’s just a bit right. It’s not the first time she’s heard those words, but she thinks that it might be the first time she’s heard them directed towards _her._ She’s barely had time to mourn her losses in the years following their deaths, busy with saving the universe and all. It’s not like she’s been sitting down for therapy.

“Get some rest,” she says, noting Yaz’s drooping posture and soft tone. She’s only human, after all. But, as she pads out towards the door, something make her stop. She thinks about her life with the Doctor, all the wonderful things she’s seen and done, and the new person she’d become because of it all. More than that, though, she thinks of the things she can never get back. She thinks of never being able to hold Jack in her arms again, of never getting lines around her eyes, which shouldn’t make her sad, but it does. She thinks of her sense of obligation to the universe, because when all she really wanted to do was rest, she still felt she had to go be _Rose Tyler, Defender of Earth._ She thinks of scars across her abdomen from hostile aliens, just wanting information. She thinks of loving someone, only to be rejected, time and time again.

She thinks of Yaz, and Ryan, and Graham, so earnest in their travels and so _trusting_ of the Doctor in the same way Rose used to be. She turns in place, looking back at Yaz, who’s still sitting up despite her sagging eyes. “Be careful with her,” Rose says, nodding to where the Doctor is leaning against the sofa. “I know what it’s like. To think that you’re not much, and then the Doctor shows you that you could be _something._ That you can make a difference. And it’s nice to live in that glory for a while, but it’s not always worth it. And she won’t mean to, but she’ll change you in ways you can never go back from. She will.”

“She’s a good person. The best I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t doubt it. But… I wasn’t always like this. I was nineteen, I had my whole life ahead of me. And I don’t blame her, really, not for all of it. But I can’t help but wonder how things would have been different if we’d never met.”

Yaz doesn’t say anything, and for a moment, Rose thinks that maybe she’s fallen asleep. Sighing, she turns to leave again, bare feet on carpeted floor, when that same voice pipes up again. “She cares about you, you know.”

“I think the Doctor cares about everyone, a bit.”

“Stop dodging, Rose. I can see it in her eyes. She’s my best friend.”

She stands in the dark for a moment, staring at the patterning on the walls through the darkness. There’s a lot of ways she could respond. _She was_ my _best friend once, too. I think I care about her, too._

Instead, she just repeats, “Get some rest.”

And she’s out of the room before the other girl can come up with anything else.

\---

Ryan, Yaz, and Graham decide that they want to spend some time back in Sheffield, which the Doctor thinks is silly, because they were just _in_ Sheffield. But they’re her friends, so she grumbles and moans about it, but she gears the TARDIS towards their home anyways.

“Just a short trip, mind you,” she insists as they file out the door, waving over their shoulders. “I want you all back on board by tomorrow morning, or I’m leaving without you.” She’s gone soft, and she thinks Rose has probably noticed, judging by her raised eyebrows and crossed arms. “What? I can’t have _everybody’s_ mums thinking I’ve kidnapped their children for a year.”

“Oi. She never really forgave you for that, you know.”

“Even after I set her up with good ol’ Pete?” Rose snorts at that, giving the Doctor a good-natured shove, which shouldn’t mean anything but still has the Doctor grinning like an idiot. She grabs Rose’s hand and twins their fingers together. They still fit like puzzle pieces. “So, what do you think? The Doctor and Rose take on the world once again? Up for an adventure?”

Tense silence overcomes the room as Rose seems to fold in on herself with hunched shoulders and a slight grimace. Gently, she pulls her hand away and tucks it back between her crossed arms. “I don’t think so, sorry. It’s just a bit soon, after…”

“Oh. Of course not. We can just hang out here, no problem.”

Rose bristles a bit, shrugging noncommittally. She’s staring down at the grating, and the Doctor wants to take her face in her hands to force eye contact. “I should probably keep looking for a way back home, anyways.”

Frustrated, the Doctor grabs Rose’s arm as she turns to walk away. It’s harsher than she’d like to be, but if anything, the startled look on Rose’s face only spurs her on more. “You’re not being fair.”

“And you’re being childish.”

“Not this again. Please, Rose.”

“What? You knew that this wasn’t permanent. I was very clear from the beginning; I need to find a way back home. I’m sorry. I wish it could be different.”

The Doctor sucks in a breath of air through clenched teeth. Worry settles in the pit of her stomach. “You keep saying that. Why can’t it be different? I dunno, I thought that maybe…”

“Maybe what? That I’d changed my mind? It’s not my choice, Doctor. Not every universe has one of you, and someone has to clean up the messes.”

“But why does it have to be _you,_ Rose?”

“Don’t you dare tell me that you don’t think I’m competent enough.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it.” They stare at each other, the Doctor’s hand still wrapped firmly around Rose’s arm. It’s a standoff, one that the Doctor doesn’t remember agreeing to be a part of. For a moment, she wonders why she even bothers, if almost every one of their conversations ends this way. She thinks about what changed, about what could have set her off this time. “Are you upset because I tried to hold you hand? Because I can stop doing that, if you’d like.”

“No, that’s… that’s fine,” Rose says, but she shifts on her feet one too many times for it to be the truth.

“You’re sending a lot of mixed signals, Rose. One minute, you’re fine, and we’re laughing, and the next, you’re off in some other world, and you want nothing to do with me. Makes me wonder if…”

“What?”

“It makes me wonder if this all would have gone differently, if I still had his face.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But it would have, wouldn’t it?” she asks, suddenly hating things about herself that she’d never payed much mind to before. She’d been excited to be a woman, for once, despite the challenges it’s posed so far, but now she found herself wishing she had just stayed a man. Stayed as someone Rose wouldn’t mind holding hands with.

“ _No,_ Doctor. No, I swear. _”_

“Be honest, it would have! You wish I still looked like him. You hate that I’m a woman, you have since you got here!”

“Oh, get over yourself!”

“Me, get over myself? How about you? You hate this face, you know you do. And you’ve been using me since the start; you’ve been using my feelings for you against me. Admit it! Just admit it!”

“Fine! I miss him, okay? I’m sorry that I can’t be one-hundred-percent cool with the fact that he’s really gone, and he’s never coming back.”

Honestly, it’s what she expected to hear, but it doesn’t hurt any less. She’d been a fool to think that things would just go back to the way they were. Silly, silly Doctor. “I wish I could be him, too. Trust me, I do,” she says, looking down at her feet.

“Doctor, that’s not… I don’t mean… I just want my best friend back.”

“I'm right here.”

“But I’m not the same Rose Tyler that left here.”

“I know,” the Doctor says, because she does. “But I think I’m really starting to like this new you, too, if that’s alright.”

Rose looks down at where the Doctor’s hands are now holding both of her arms, keeping her in place. She bites her lip softly, eyebrows furrowed in deep deliberation, but doesn’t pull away. “You don’t even know me anymore. Not really. You don’t know where I’ve been. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Then tell me. You’ve been so cut-off, Rose. Just tell me.” Suddenly, the Doctor is stricken by their proximity, and the smell of Rose’s hair, and her tiny puffs of breath. They’ve stood close together before, of course, even fallen asleep with each other on the sofa, but that fact does nothing to distract the Doctor from tingles dancing across her skin. Rose has always been so _human,_ even now that the Doctor’s not quite sure that’s all she is. So, it’s only reasonable that the Doctor feels so very human when she’s around her.

Because her hearts are behaving in a very non-Time Lord fashion.

Rose breathes deep, and the Doctor can feel her soft exhale across her own skin. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”

Gently, the Doctor rubs her hands up and down Rose’s arms, applying just the slightest bit of comforting pressure. She might not be great with words in this body, especially the kind that are meant to make other people feel better, but there’s something about Rose that’s always made it easier. “The library, then. We can have a proper chat.”

“I can make hot cocoa,” Rose says, her mouth quirking slightly upwards.

The Doctor’s face splits into a wide grin as she pulls Rose into a tight embrace, unable to stop herself. She can feel the ghost of a memory dancing up her skin, echoes of times where they would touch like this without even a second thought. It makes her grip stronger, a promise, as they sway on the spot, giddily like children. “With marshmallows?”

“With marshmallows,” Rose confirms, her hands splayed across the small of the Doctor’s back.

She can feel the warmth of them, even through several layers of shirts.

\---

The Doctor’s had millions of questions buzzing around the back of her mind since Rose first arrived, but now that they’re staring at each other over mugs of steaming hot chocolate, her thoughts are suspiciously aimless. “Do you really not know how you got here?” she asks, because that seems like a good place to start.

“Nah,” Rose says, taking a slow sip. “Well, not really. I have these sort of… abilities.”

Okay. Interesting. “How do you mean?”

“It’s like… God, I don’t know how to say this without sounding _so_ YA fiction. It’s like, I can see things. Not the future, or anything. I’m not psychic. But sometimes, I know things that I really should have no way of knowing.”

“Like the mirror portal, or the whole antizone mess.”

Rose nods her head a couple times, tapping her fingers mindlessly on the ceramic of her cup. “Yeah, exactly. I just get this _feeling,_ like a song. Like _time,_ telling me all its secrets. Sorry, this all sounds ridiculous.”

“No,” the Doctor interjects, “I think it sounds a lot like what I feel. I mean, not exactly. I’m not hearing any songs. But back in Norway, it made you sick.”

“The more information I get, the more energy it takes out of me. I dunno why.”

“Your body is still human, even if the rest of you isn’t. It’s not meant to handle whatever this is.”

Clicking her tongue, Rose’s eyes search the Doctor’s face earnestly. “And any ideas on what that might be? I’ve been hearing this for… for a very long time, now. And no one’s got any answers.”

“No one? Not even the other – not even John?”

She looks away again. The Doctor tries to catch her gaze, but she’s hyper focused on picking at a loose thread of the cushion. “Uh, I never told him about it.”

“Never?”

“Well, he knew something was wrong. The whole not ageing thing, obviously. But he already felt so terrible about that, I didn’t want to give him anything else to agonise over.”

The Doctor reaches out to take the hand that’s still tugging at the thread. Rose snaps her head up at the contact, breathing deeply. “Did you tell _anyone?”_

“Not exactly.”

“ _Rose.”_

“There was this one planet that I went to. By myself. They figured out that I wasn’t all human. And they… Well, it’s my fault, really. I knew too much, they said. There was no way for me to get the information that I had.”

Rose’s hand is trembling slightly in her own, and the Doctor strokes her thumb across the other woman’s knuckles with a feather-light touch. It’s a testament to her current mental state that she doesn’t pull away from the affection and change the subject. “What happened?”

“It’s not a big deal. They just… They wanted to know how I knew.”

“What happened?” she repeats.

“They experimented. They just wanted to know how.” The Doctor gasps, even though she’d been anticipating the answer since the question was asked. Rose’s eyes are dry of tears, but her lip is on its way to being worried to a bloody mess in between her teeth.

“Rose, I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault. It’s fine, anyways. It was ages ago.” Her voice has a very distant quality to it, and she’s still letting the Doctor trace patterns across the tops of her hands.

“It’s not fine. It was torture, Rose.”

She scoffs, finally shifting her focus to look the Doctor in the eye. “It wasn’t torture. Just… curiosity.”

“But they hurt you.” Rose is silent, but she places left hand over where the Doctor is holding her right one and squeezes. The Doctor swallows, clenching her teeth tightly in an effort to still the growing anger in the pit of her stomach. “For how long?”

“Dunno. Felt like forever. But whatever they found out, they didn’t share with me. I broke out eventually, and I never looked back.”

“Rose…”

“It’s okay. They just wanted to know how,” she repeats once more. The Doctor, after a moment’s consideration, leans her head on Rose’s shoulder. She’s not sure if its for her comfort or Rose’s, but when Rose rests her own head on top of the Doctor’s, she thinks it might be for both of them. “Can we change the subject, please?”

“Yeah. Whatever you’d like.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you sure you want to keep going at all?” The Doctor can feel Rose’s head nod atop hers. “Right. So, how you got here. Do you think it has anything to do with these abilities of yours?”

Shifting slightly in her seat, Rose hums softly. “I guess. I mean, I’d never transported myself anywhere before. It’s all very _Harry Potter._ ”

“Do _you_ have any ideas on what changed you?”

“Well, it’s got to be the heart of the TARDIS, right? Nothing else could have… done that.”

“I took it out of you. But, I suppose it could have made some changes beforehand. Fuck, Rose, I’m sorry.”

“Woah. Swearing.”

“Sorry.”

Rose’s body shakes against the Doctor’s, and she lifts her head in alarm to ask why she’s started crying. But she’s not crying, she’s… laughing? “Stop saying sorry! Oh my God, stop! You definitely didn’t make me absorb the… time vortex, or whatever. That was purely my own stupid decision.”

“But you’ve been angry with me.”

“Yeah. Maybe that’s been a bit… misplaced. I am angry that you left me, though. You ever asked if that was what I wanted.”

“You seemed to be pretty content when you and handy were snogging up a storm.”

“Oi! Doctor, are you jealous? Are you properly jealous?” Rose gets up to sit on her knees, leaning back on her heels to survey the Doctor’s blush. As she turns her head away and groans, the Doctor lets her head loll across the couch cushion. She’s a Time Lord. A highly esteemed warrior race. Under no circumstances should she be blushing like a teenage human.

“I’m not! I’m _not._ I got married too, you know. In a way. And not to Queen Elizabeth! Her name is River Song. I have a wife. Had a wife. Sort of. I don’t know.” There’s no reason to bring that up, really, save the fact that the Doctor is really tired of being on the other end of this conversation. That and the fact that there’s a tiny part of her that misses the look on Rose’s face when they ran into Sarah Jane, or the one after that whole mess with Reinette.

It sobers her up, anyways. “Oh. You did, huh?”

“Yup. She’s a professor.”

“That’s fine,” she says, pursing her lips and tucking her blonde hair behind her ear. “It’s no matter. Doesn’t bother me.”

“You look pretty bothered,” the Doctor teases. This is new territory, treading dangerously into a place where the Doctor would have to admit that there’s a reason Rose would have to be bothered. Into a place where she would have to recognise that there’s something between them. That there’s always been something between them.

Rose frowns deliberately. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She thumbs at a hangnail for a few seconds. “It’s just… _Married_? Really?”

“Hey, you _also_ got married!”

“Yeah, to you!” They stare at each other for a couple seconds before bursting into laughter, Rose shoving the Doctor so hard that she nearly falls off the sofa but catches herself just in time.

“Oh, that was rotten.”

“Sorry,” Rose laughs, coughing a few times in an effort to contain herself. “Nah, I’m not.” She settles herself back onto the couch beside the Doctor, wedging herself between the armrest and her friend. Their mugs of hot chocolate are long forgotten on the oak coffee table. The Doctor sighs and lets herself relax back into the cushions, jostling their knees together. “I wish I could stay here,” Rose says, then snaps her mouth closed as soon as she does, like she hadn’t meant to say it.

The Doctor casts a glance her way, trying to stay casual. “Well, I’d love to have you.”

“Really?”

 _Really?_ Was that even a question? There’d been little else on her mind these last few months, even when they were at horrible odds with each other in the beginning. “Course.”

“Even though I’m not… I’m not exactly human anymore?”

“Rose, it doesn’t matter _what_ you are. You’re Rose Tyler. Whatever you’ve done that you think makes you so irredeemable, it doesn’t matter. You don’t even have to tell me. You and me… I feel like we were always meant to be here. We were always meant to be this.”

Dangerous ground.

“I can’t stay. I told you before. The other universe. They need me.”

“Fuck the other universe.”

“Swearing!” Rose says again, obviously trying to keep the mood light, but the Doctor’s far past joking. She keeps her gaze steady on Rose until the other woman’s joking grin fades away and she’s left staring back with dark eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

“Fuck the other universe. _I_ need you.” It’s as close to a declaration that the Doctor thinks she’ll ever be able to give, and she hopes that it’s enough. That her cowardice will be enough.

“Maybe… Oh, I’m going to regret saying this. In the long term, I’m still going to go back. But it _probably_ wouldn’t make that much of a difference if I stuck around for a while. Maybe spent less time researching how to get back, and just worry about it if something major comes up. There are no Time Lords in the other universe. Everything goes a bit smoother.”

“You’re staying?”

“For now.”

The Doctor’s hearts skip in her chest. “But you’re staying.”

“For now!” The Doctor wraps her in a side hug, squeezing tight even as Rose squeals in protest. She buries her face in Rose’s blonde hair, breathing in her shampoo steadily until it nearly consumes her. “Oh my God, you’re being so dramatic. Get off me,” she laughs, and the Doctor takes one last sniff before pulling away.

“Can we be best friends again?” she asks. It sounds childish out loud, and honestly, far too blasé for the weight of the sentiment. The stakes are high on this one, and Rose seems to know it, because she doesn’t mock her about it.

“Yes, please. I’ve missed you,” she hesitantly tacks on the end.

“I’ve missed you, too,” the Doctor replies. “I’ve missed you too.”

\---

“Do you regret it?”

“Hm?”

“Absorbing the time vortex. You said it was a stupid decision.”

“Nah. I’d do it again, even.”

“Really? After everything that’s happened?”

“Well, it saved your life, didn’t it? I’d say that’s pretty worth it.”

…

“Now who’s being dramatic?”

\---


	9. IX

Rose agrees to go on _one_ adventure with the Doctor before going to pick her friends up again. This time around, she feels a _lot_ more excitement, mostly because last time she was just there to go through the motions. And, of course, she makes the Doctor promise that it will only be _one_ adventure because she doesn’t want the Doctor’s new friends to have to wait too long.

It doesn’t matter how many times to Doctor insists that _it’s a time machine, Rose, we’ll still be back at the same time._ It’s the principle of the thing.

There’s a rhythm to their madness, one that Rose hadn’t realised she’d been sorely missing until they found it again. The Doctor still does her ludicrous dance around the console, but Rose remembers the buttons she’s supposed to press well enough that she doesn’t get them killed. The controls may look different, but there’s a definite pattern to them that the Doctor had shown Rose all those years ago.

The Doctor doesn’t even hide the fact that they’re looking for trouble. Normally, they’d play nice, and she’d act all disappointed when something went wrong on what was _supposed_ to be a nice day out. But now, she seems to have moved past that little vice, and she pilots them _straight_ for danger.

It’s fine. It’s what Rose has been doing for centuries, back home.

“What do you think?” she asks, placing her hands on her hips as Rose steps through the TARDIS doors.

Rose peers up at the purple sky above, at the shimmering clouds of dust from a nearby explosion. Whatever planet they’ve landed on – _moon,_ her mind corrects her – is at war. She can sense the palpable tension in the air, even though they’re in a relatively isolated area, but even if she couldn’t sense it, the far-off war-cries are telling enough. “Do you want me to tell you how impressive you are? Is that what you’re after?”

“Would be nice, yeah,” the Doctor says. Grinning at Rose cheekily, she nods her head in the direction of the explosion that had unsettled all the dust. “After you.”

\---

They end up in jail, of course. Turns out, this particular moon is populated by a warrior race who did _not_ take kindly to two strangers coming in and trying to put a stop to their war. The war that had been going on for a millennia, they said, and would hopefully go on more a millennia more.

The Doctor paces the length of the cell again, as if this time is going to be different than the last three hundred times she’s done it, while Rose looks on in amusement from her spot on the floor. “I wish the sonic would work on wood,” she says, face scrunched up in the way that this regeneration seems to tend towards. “We’d be back in the TARDIS by now.”

“It’s fine,” Rose says. “The view down here is nice, anyways.” She is, of course, referring to the fact that the Doctor has shucked her jacket in the heat of the prison, and Rose has had a direct sight line to her bottom for the last hour.

Maybe the humour’s been lost in their culture gap, because the Doctor stares at her for far too many moments, completely slack-jawed. Rose has always joked like that with her girlfriends, and she supposes that maybe since the Doctor’s never been a girl before, she probably took it the wrong way. “Just a joke,” she clarifies. ”Relax.”

“Right,” the Doctor says quickly, her body relaxing. “I thought so.”

Rose quirks an eyebrow at her, smiling mischievously. “No, you didn’t! You perv. You really thought I was checking you out, huh? That full of yourself?”

“No! I was just confused, is all. I get it now, I swear.”

“I’m just teasing. I wouldn’t… look at you like that. Not that you’re not lovely! Just that we’re both girls, you know?” Saying the words out loud feel a little uncomfortable, and _God,_ she hopes that the Doctor doesn’t think that she’s homophobic or anything. She doesn’t mind _gay_ people, honestly, as long as they aren’t showing it in public.

The Doctor flushes so brightly that Rose is sure she’s offended her in some way. And then her mind starts racing, because the Doctor had obviously been attracted to women in her previous bodies – Rose married the clone of one of them, after all – and she’s not sure if that would have changed when she became a woman herself. She considers, for the first time, that the Doctor might still be interested in other girls.

It makes her more uncomfortable than she’d like to admit.

“Would that be wrong?” the Doctor asks in a voice that’s uncharacteristically small. “For two women to feel that way about each other?”

Oh no.

“God, of course not. That’s not what I meant. It’s just that _I’m_ not attracted to girls.”

Frowning down at her, the Doctor claps her hands together far too loudly. “Me either!”

“Good.”

“ _Good?”_

_Jesus Christ, Rose. Shut your mouth. Shut up, now!_

“No! I’m… I’m sorry, Doctor. I don’t know why I said that. It’s obviously fine for you to feel… however, about whoever you want.” She feels like to Doctor know, words spilling from her mouth before she has a chance to stop them, each one worsening the situation more than the last. “Or, not feel. I’m not saying you have to feel _that way_ about anyone, or anything.” You’d think that for two people who are, for all intents and purposes, essentially immortal, they’d be able to have a more mature conversation than this. But, of course, Rose has been on her own for a while, not exactly spending her weekends chitchatting, and the Doctor’s always been socially awkward. This is probably to be expected.

The conversation ends there, thank the Lord. There’s only so much scrambling Rose can handle in one day.

Again, it’s not that she doesn’t _like_ gay people. She doesn’t think they’re going to Hell, or anything; she’s not one of those weirdos picketing outside pride celebrations. And she’d been friends with a lot of gay men during her life. But there’s something about… _lesbians –_ even the word sounds dirty – that she’s always shied away from. It’s not a problem, honestly, just a preference. In her own universe, back when she still called Earth home, she’d even voted for the legalisation of same-sex marriage. Though, that was more about _not really caring_ and less about her own personal plight for the cause.

And maybe she would have considered telling the Doctor some of this, if the door didn’t fly open at that exact moment. 

It’s one of the men they’d met earlier, who’d warned them not to meddle in the conflict. She can’t quite remember his name, but she remembers his blue hair and strange, almost scaly skin. She also remembers the way he was looking at her with appreciative eyes.

She’s the appreciative one now.

“Are you two going to stay in here all day? Come on, let’s move it,” he whisper yells into the cell, holding the door open for the Doctor and waiting for Rose to scramble to her feet. They make eye contact as she brushes by him, one of his large black eyes winking at her _almost_ charmingly. “After you, sweetheart.”

The three of them creep alongside the wall, anxious to not be seen by any oncoming guards. “You came back for us,” the Doctor says, mild shock colouring her tone.

The man – God, what is his _name –_ turns his head so he can stare at Rose as they inch along the corridor. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t get my mind off of the beautiful blonde who’d pulled me away from that explosion.”

“Well, I’m very flattered, but I don’t think…” the Doctor trails off, stopping so suddenly that they almost crash into her. “Oh. You’re talking about Rose. You’ve… you’re _flirting._ ”

“That a problem? What, you’ve got claim already?”

“I don’t think _Rose_ appreciates the implication that she can be claimed.”

The woman in question nearly bites her own tongue off, because she has not been travelling through space on her own for centuries, facing down stuff of nightmares, just for two stupid aliens to passive-aggressively fight over her. Plus, their voices have risen in volume _substantially,_ and she’s starting to get worried that someone’s going to come check up on them. “Will both of you shut up? Please?”

“Sorry,” the Doctor says sheepishly as the unnamed man grumbles noncommittally. “Thank you for getting us.”

“Whatever.”

Trying her best not to roll her eyes, Rose runs her hand across the ridges in the wall while she walks alongside it. So, this version of the Doctor apparently has a jealous streak. It’s not _exactly_ new, but it’s different, coming from a woman. Strange, but not really worth worrying about. If the Doctor didn’t care enough to make a move on her before, surely she wouldn’t _now._ It’s the same old rhetoric: I won’t touch you, but no one else can either. It’s actually almost a nice return to the way things used to be.

And then, well, the Doctor still hasn’t put her jacket back on, instead electing to hold it in her arms. And they’re not really doing much, just treading the length of the corridor in a kind of awkward silence. And, just purely out of curiosity, Rose lets her gaze fall to the Doctor’s backside again. She’s just observing, honestly, because her bum looks _really_ good in those trousers, and Rose is just wondering how she’s managed to pull _that_ one off with the amount of sugar she eats.

All the same, she finds herself flushing with shame not a moment later.

She won’t lie to herself and say that she’d never loved the Doctor. She’d loved him so deeply so and so much once, but it’s been years and years since that time. And besides, she’d loved the pinstriped, lanky Doctor, and he was long gone.

So why is it that she’s finding it harder and harder to differentiate this new Doctor from the man she once loved?

Rose doesn’t feel that way about women. She never has, and she never will.

And that’s that.

Suddenly, the alarms are blaring, and it’s obvious that somebody’s noticed that they’re missing now, because the sounds of armed guards are getting worryingly close. Rose curses herself internally. Maybe if she hadn’t been wasting time gawking at the Doctor’s arse, then she would have sensed that trouble was on its way. A group of men rush past them across an upcoming junction on the corridor, and Rose flattens herself against the wall, hardly daring to breathe. The Doctor throws her arm across Rose’s torso, keeping her steady, and now all she can focus on is the other woman’s hand flexed against her stomach. She can feel it pressed on her ribcage as her chest heaves with anxiety, the group of men passing by without paying them any mind. Rose closes her eyes in relief.

“Run!” the Doctor whisper-yells, and her fingers trace a trail along Rose’s waist as she retracts her arm in favour of linking their hands. Rose giggles a little desperately, letting herself get dragged along and barely checking to see if nameless macho guy is still with them.

It’s easy, she thinks, to get pulled into the Doctor’s world. She told herself she wouldn’t be, but now? Running alongside her best friend once again? She can’t quite remember why she was so hesitant to let it happen.

…

It’s too perfect.

Rose being back, that is.

Angry, vengeful Rose was one thing, but now the Doctor’s got her favourite person in the universe by her side again, and she can’t remember the universe ever being that kind. And after they’re back on the TARDIS, and Rose has gone to go clean up, the Doctor lets herself ponder something that’s been niggling at the back of her mind ever since Rose arrived. She starts to consider the one thing that’s been too horrible to really put into words.

Maybe this isn’t real.

Because when you think about it, it’s all worked out far too nicely. All things considered, Rose warmed up to her quite quickly. She gets on well with the fam, even after a bit of a rocky start. She showed up in this universe against all the odds, years after the Doctor had forbidden herself from searching for cracks in the walls, and she had no recollection of how it happened. She’s immortal, for fuck’s sake. The Doctor’s _favourite person in the whole universe,_ and they just happen to be able to spend their forevers together? It’s not right. It’s some kind of trap, she’s sure of it.

She wants to scream.

It is, of course, that exact moment when the display flashes red, signaling something important. It’s in circular Gallifreyan, which she’s hard pressed to admit that she doesn’t like as much as she likes English, but the message is as clear as day.

There’s a hole. A passage between the worlds. It’s just tiny, but there’s a way for Rose to get back home.

“Why now?” she asks aloud, because _of course_ the universe isn’t that fucking kind, and of course this wasn’t going to last. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

The screen keeps flashing red, displaying words the Doctor loathes to read but can’t look away from. This is her karma. All the awful, horrible things she’s done across her many lives, all culminating in _this._ In the gods holding forbidden fruit close enough for her to see, but just far away enough that she can never taste it. “I can’t stand to do this again,” she says, voice full of bitter resentment as she collapses against the struts, letting her head fall back harshly. “Don’t make me revisit this. _Please._ I… I don’t understand. Haven’t I done my penance? Haven’t I made up for even a fraction of all the bad?” She bunches her hair in her hands, pulling on the scraggly ends in a fruitless effort to ground herself. In the blue light of the console room, everything seems just that more morose. “I had moved on. I understood that she was more than I could ever deserve. She couldn’t stay here. And that’s fine. That’s good; I made peace with that. But to bring her here again… To bring her back to me only to now…” Kicking her trainers against the grating, the Doctor knows that if this _is_ all a dream, or a trick, it’s far crueller than anything she could have thought up. “ _Fuck! Fuck everything!_ It’s not fair!” she yells, suddenly much more angry than sad. Frustrated tears spring to her eyes, because she knows what the _right_ thing to do is, but she also knows that she can’t bring herself to do it.

“What’s the matter?” Rose rushes in, wet hair plastered to a hastily-thrown-on robe. “You’re shouting.”

The Doctor starts forward to turn off the display even though Rose wouldn’t be able to read it anyways. “Sorry!” she says, trying to keep her voice light as her hearts threaten to beat out of her chest. “Repairs aren’t going my way.”

Rose pads closer, biting her lip in disbelief. “Okay.” Tenderly, she reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind the Doctor’s ear, forcing eye contact. And the Doctor’s breath catches in her throat, because Rose’s eyes are impossibly soft, and she’s now even more sure than she was before that she’s not going to make any other decision. “Is that really all?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, and she barely feels the weight of guilt. She’s making a bargain with the universe, a selfish and conceited bargain, but she can’t say goodbye again. Every feeling she’s ever felt for _Rose Tyler,_ for this seemingly innocuous human being, floods through her body until she’s barely aware of anything else, and it’s _choking_ her, and it’s making it _so damn hard to breathe._ “Rose,” she stutters, aware of the tears still shining in her eyes, and she’s so sure that she’s about to say all the words that she just hasn’t been able to find for _centuries,_ “Rose… I – I want you to know that I…” An ugly, horrible sob forces its way up her throat, and she just _can’t say it._ She can’t make the words come out, because she’s been alone for so long, and she doesn’t let herself be vulnerable like this with _anyone,_ because she’s too scared of getting hurt. She _hates_ herself, because she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to say it. And that just makes her cry harder, until she can’t see through the blur of tears, and she’s shaking horribly with every shuddering breath.

“Hey,” Rose coos. “Whatever it is, it’s alright.” The Doctor falls forwards into her arms, collapsing with the weight of unrestrained grief, but Rose holds her up and holds her _close._ But it’s not close enough, will never be close enough – she presses herself up against the other girl, surely getting snot and tears all over her robe – she smells like lavender shampoo – Rose’s arms are tight around her waist.

“Don’t leave me,” she says, and she realises she’s been saying it over and over again for the last minute and a half. The hands at her waist rub soothing circles at the small of her back. “Please don’t leave me.”

“M’not going anywhere, crazy lady.”

 _No, you’re not,_ the Doctor agrees silently. _I’ve taken that choice away from you. Again._

But she can’t bring herself to be sorry about it.

She closes her eyes and focuses on the feeling of her cheek against Rose’s shoulder as she breathes in and out, in and out. “We sure do seem to do a lot of crying. The pair of us,” she says thinly, voice stretched out and gentle.

“I suppose so. Comes with the territory.”

“What?” she asks as she lifts her head up.

“Well, you’re a woman now, Doctor. Very emotional.”

Laughing, the Doctor puts her hands over her face in an effort to hide her wet cheeks. “I don’t think you’re allowed to stay stuff like that,” she teases, snorting a bit.

“I can say what I’d like. I’ve always been a woman. You, on the other hand…”

Despite the careful way she’s continuing to rub the Doctor’s back, Rose’s tone is light and playful. A clear distraction, obviously, but also a welcome one. “Hey, regeneration’s a lottery.”

“Mm. How many has it been, then? Since pinstripes?” More distractions.

“Three, I think. Oh, you would have really liked the one that followed the me that you knew. _That_ was a confusing sentence. Um, anyways, he was a bit young. A bit of a flirt. I used to wear a _bow-tie._ We would have got on well. _”_

“I bet we would have. But that’s okay. I like you now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rose says, and she pulls her into another hug.

…

That night, Rose dreams.

There’s nothing unusual about the setting that would lead her to believe that this isn’t reality; she’s merely standing on the pavement outside the Powell Estates. The sky is proper blue, the trees are swaying in a gentle breeze.

Across the way, the words _Bad Wolf_ are keyed into a parked car.

“Finally, she’s awake,” someone says. Rose spins around, and everything tips on its axis a bit – the world is a blurry mess of a beautiful kaleidoscope before rights itself. “Took you long enough.”

There’s no one there. Absolutely no one. But there is a voice, just barely more than a humming, melodic song that fills up the space. “I’m not awake. This is sleeping,” she says calmly, like this is nothing out of the ordinary. It doesn’t even feel out of the ordinary.

“If you say so,” the voice says, and this time, Rose looks down to see that it’s coming from a bird, black with ruffled feathers.

“Birds can’t talk.”

“If you say so.” 

It takes a moment to poke and prod at its feathers, but its picking only makes them stick up more. Rose considers kneeling down to help, but when she tries to bend her knees, they won’t move. Her hands won’t listen to her either, remaining limply at her sides even as she goes to reach out. “I’m not sure I understand what’s happening right now.”

“No, I guess you wouldn’t. I’ve been trying to do this for _ages,_ but you’re so stubborn. I couldn’t reach you in that horrid universe, but I thought that once I brought you back, we would finally be able to chat. But no, it still took _months._ ”

“Trying to do – wait, what do you mean _brought me back?”_

“You didn’t think you managed that one by yourself, did you?” Rose blinks, and now they’re standing in the flat she once shared with Jimmy Stone, in the flat where she got drunk for the first time, in the flat where she lost her virginity, in the flat where she promised she would never trust a man again. The bird pulls a worm from between the fibres of the stained carpet, like it’s grass. She still can’t move.

“Who are you?”

“You don’t already know?”

“Stop answering my questions with more questions,” she says plainly, more focused on the way the walls are growing taller and taller with each passing moment than this silly bird. It doesn’t respond anyways, pulling another worm through the floor instead. “You’re the one who brought me back to this universe.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t ask for this. I don’t _want_ this.”

“And yet, here we are.” It takes a few jerky steps before hopping up to the arm of a couch that smells pungently like beer. Rose moves then, too, seemingly not of her own accord, to sit down on the moss-green cushions. The stench nearly overwhelms her. “Just stop breathing, then,” it says, like it knows what she’s thinking.

“Okay.” And she does.

“I am the entirety of time. You know, that thing you absorbed when you opened up your Doctor’s TARDIS. Without asking me, I might add.”

She purses her lips, feeling something moist from the couch soaking through the seat of her jeans. “My name’s Rose.”

Somehow, the bird rolls its beady black eyes at the sentiment. The entirety if time is exceptionally rude, but then again, Rose is sure she wasn’t expecting anything less. “Yes, I know that. Obviously. I thought you would have known who I am, too. You did _say_ you thought you were getting some… _extra help_ from the time vortex. And you have been, so five points to you. But honestly, Rose, I expected a little bit more _deductive reasoning_ from someone whose head I’ve been chattering in for the last few centuries.”

They’ve moved again, this time to the console room of the TARDIS Rose had first learned to love. The sight of it sends her heart to the floor, which is exactly when she realises that her heart… isn’t even beating. She feels slow, and sluggish, and cold all over now, like her joints have all fused and froze together. Her eyelids flutter shut. “How can _all of time_ be inside my head?”

“How am I supposed to know? _You_ created the link, Rose Tyler. And you don’t really have _all of time_ inside your head, as you so eloquently put it. You wouldn’t survive that, sweetheart, which is why the Doctor took most of me out of you. Just… not _all_ of me.”

“But… I-”

“Enough questions, kid. You think I want to sit around here, taking a tour of the _life and times of Rose Tyler?_ No, I’ve got stuff to do. I’ve come to tell you something important.”

“Oh. Okay. What is it?”

“You’re going to die.”

And with one swift motion, Rose reaches out and grabs the bird in her fist, calmly squeezing around its neck until it goes limp in her grasp.

…

When she wakes up, there are three greasy black feathers wedged between her fingers.

…


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I'M BACK!!! sorry for upending everything lmao. so i had a place with my gf, but i had to move back in with my dad because of corona, and then uni shifted to online, so everything was shit. basically, i was not focusing on this fic, which i'm sorry for. but things are going back to normal here (canada), my semester is over for the summer, and me and the gf are looking for another place since we've both got jobs again. everything's coming up roses! i hope it's safe to say that you guys can expect more regular updates again.  
> if you read all that, thanks :^)

Rose considers keeping the previous nights...  _ events  _ to herself. The whole thing is practically ridiculous – she would have thought it a fever-induced nightmare if not for the feathery reminders she’d been saddled with. She’s certainly not going to tell the Doctor that she might  _ die.  _ Something tells her that the other woman wouldn’t take that very well. And honestly, she’s hoping that this might be a scenario similar to when they were told she was going to  _ die in battle,  _ and then she had remained pretty much alive. 

But the whole possessed – is that the right word? – by time thing, well that might be a bit much to handle all by herself. She’s not even sure what to make of it, really. It’s been clear to her for a very long time that she’s not exactly human anymore, but somehow this is just more than she could have expected. So, she resolves to tell the Doctor at least that much. If she can ever figure out how to bring it up.

How do say to your best friend,  _ oh yeah, the reason I black out and divine meaning from nonexistent songs is because the essence of time is inside my head?  _ It’s not exactly casual conversation. 

This deliberation goes on for so long that they eventually pick up their friends – weird, not just calling them the Doctor’s friends – from Sheffield. It’s a welcome distraction at any rate, especially when they change course for  Ranskoor Av  Kolos . Though, it’s a bit distressing when even  _ she  _ can’t figure out what that mysterious crystal is supposed to be. The voices of time are suspiciously stubborn when they want to be, apparently, and as the rest of her friends stand and wait for her to figure it out to no avail, Rose can’t help but think,  _ God, time really is a cunt.  _

Still, it’s fine. The Doctor saves the day, like always, and Rose can’t even find it in her to be ticked-off about it. Ryan and Graham find some closure over Grace’s death, which Rose recently learned more about from Yaz, and they all get back to the TARDIS in one piece. 

She still hasn’t mentioned the dream.

She wonders how long the shelf life is for  _ you’re _ _ going to die. _

\---

“Fam?” Rose asks, leaning against the console as the Doctor fiddles with the dematerialization circuit. “You were serious about that?”

“Hey now,” the Doctor sneers playfully, “I happen to like it. And Yaz! Yaz said she likes it.”

“That was really more of a spur of the moment thing.” 

The Doctor looks between her friends with raised eyebrows, hopelessly wondering when they had decided to gang up on her. It’s not fair, really. Why is it that no one’s ever on  _ her  _ side when things like this go down? “Whatever,  _ fam.  _ I see how it is.” She surveys the rest of the group, taking in Graham’s weary face and pinched eyes. It’s only natural, she supposes, after everything that went down with  Tzim -Sha, but she’s not sure what exactly to  _ say  _ to him, so it’s probably best to just leave that be. Still not all that great with the whole  _ comforting  _ thing.

Well, there is  _ one  _ thing she’s good for. A distraction! “Where to next?”

Rose clears her throat quite loudly. Her and Ryan exchange one of those  _ looks  _ that the Doctor can never decipher. It’s silly; humans aren’t telepathic beings, but they always seem to be able to communicate with their eyes in a way that she’s not been able to grasp yet. “You know, Doctor, it’s been a long day. I – well, I think  _ we –  _ could do with a rest.”

The Doctor almost starts in on her because she  _ knows  _ Rose doesn’t need that much sleep anymore, but upon further inspection, she does look a bit haggard. In the nicest way possible, of course. And Graham’s had quite the ordeal, so it’s probably sane for them to have a bit of a rest. “Right, of course. Sorry, guys. Rest up, and we’ll find something to do in the next few days.”

“Yeah, it’s probably for the best. Night,” Graham calls, already halfway out of the console room and shrugging off his jacket. Frowning after him, the Doctor thinks he was probably more tired than he was letting on. 

“There’s no  _ nights  _ on the TARDIS, Graham,” she calls, “I thought we’d been over this! I don’t know how many times I have to...”

“Hey.” Smiling softly, Rose pulls the Doctor in for a hug. It’s probably meant to be a quick thing, just to get her to stop talking, but the Doctor’s hands move up of her own accord, twisting in the cloth at the small of Rose’s back, and she buries her face in the other woman’s neck. Rose shifts back and forth on her feet a bit until they’re swaying in tandem, pressed together. She figures the others must have left the room already, gone to go to sleep, and she’s content to stand in Rose’s gentle embrace for the next several minutes.

“We were actually  gonna stay up for a while,” Yaz says, and Rose pulls back so quickly that the Doctor worries she’s injured herself. Suddenly without the support she’d almost fully been leaning on, the Doctor pitches forwards, barely managing to stabilize herself on the console. She crosses her arms  cooly , trying to play off the awkward near-fall as deliberate. Cool, cool Doctor. 

Rose blinks a few times, looking between Ryan and Yaz as if she’d forgotten who they were for a moment. “Sorry,” she says to them, even though the Doctor’s not sure what she’s apologizing for. “I haven’t been feeling myself for the last few days. I’m... I’m  gonna go take a shower.” She swipes a hand across her forehead, as if collecting her thoughts, before clapping Ryan’s shoulder and shuffling away. 

The Doctor worries her lip between her teeth as she watches Rose’s retreating form. It’s a coin toss, with Rose, and she never knows if she’s going to get flirtatious, goofy Rose or the Rose who can barely stand to be seen with her. It shouldn’t even matter to her. As much as she’d love to be like  _ that  _ with Rose,  _ God, she wants it so badly,  _ it’s just not reasonable. She’s come close, over the years, with different people – though perhaps none of them closer than Rose – but she can’t have that kind of life. It wouldn’t be fair. 

“You guys are  _ hugging  _ now,” Yaz quips. The Doctor turns to look at her, trying desperately to keep the blood from rushing to her cheeks. 

“Yes, well, I like hugs. I hug lots of people.”

“You never hug me,” Ryan points out, smirking. 

The Doctor gapes at him a moment. “Well,  _ Ryan,  _ if I hugged you, then I would also have to hug Graham. I don’t want to hug Graham.”

“He’s just pulling your leg, Doctor. I’m glad you two made up. You seem... happier.”

She looks down at her boots, caked with mud, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips no matter how hard she tries to fight it. “I’ve missed her for a very long time, you know. Don’t even think I realised how much until I saw her again.”

“Doc’s got a bit of a crush, then?” Ryan asks, still with that  _ infuriatingly  _ knowing look on his face. 

And the Doctor nearly blanches at the notion, tied up in the grade-school-ness of It all, but deep down, she also knows that he’s got a point. Well, she wouldn’t necessarily call it a  _ crush,  _ and more of a never-ending, hopeless devotion and dependency, but still. He’s got a point. “Right, that’s the last time I talk to  _ you  _ lot about feelings. Thought I’d try it out. Didn’t work. Go to sleep.” She turns on her heel swiftly and ignores her friends’ jeering laughter as she makes her exit with flaming cheeks. It’s only when she’s in a completely different room that she  realises that she’s still smiling.


	11. XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i fucking hate rewriting episodes but it is what it is. also y'all are gonna hate me but i will be including orphan 55 because there is a major plot point that best fits in that specific episode. i promise to develop their relationship soon i'm not crazy. it says slowburn in the tags right
> 
> ok bye be gay do crimes

You’d think a magic time ship would be able to get the water hotter than a regular shower. It’s not that it isn’t warm, because it is. So warm that Rose can’t see through the condensation on the glass door. And when she looks down, her skin is bright red from the heat.

Yet, she still stands there, shivering under the constant spray.

Rose wonders for a moment if it’s the shower with issues, or if it’s her.

Finally, she figures that enough is enough, and that if the shower isn’t going to help, she could at least wrap herself in some warm clothes. The air is thick with humidity, even after she turns the water off and steps out onto the bath mat. Her teeth are chattering so violently that her jaw starts to ache, but her hand is still flushed with healthy colour as she reaches out to swipe some fog from the mirror. 

In the reflection, she sees a man standing behind her. Gasping harshly and dropping her towel, she trips over her own feet to turn around. But, of course, there’s no one else in the small room.  Risidual nerves, she supposes. Perhaps she’s more worried about everything than she thought. Rose clasps her hands over her chest to feel what should be the frantic beating of her heart.

But it’s not frantic.

In fact, it’s barely there. Confused, she puts two fingers up to her pulse point, and she has to press so hard that it  _ hurts  _ before she feels anything. She feels alert despite the cold, though she can still feel her head spinning from the shock of the imagined intruder. But her pulse is weak and fluttering, even as she struggles to catch her breath with exertion. She wraps the towel around herself again and turns to the mirror again.

In the reflection, there is still a man standing behind her. She blinks a few times, wondering if, perhaps, there are people living in the mirrors of the TARDIS. Stranger things have happened. Then she looks at him, like  _ really  _ looks at him, and nearly drops her towel again.

It’s John. Her John. 

She doesn’t even know what to feel, and that’s okay, because she hardly has time to feel anything  before she blinks, and then he’s gone again. A familiar sense of  _ knowing  _ niggles at the back of her mind, reassuring her that he was never really there. Except, honestly, that knowledge isn’t any more  _ reassuring  _ than if he really had been there.

Hallucinating her dead husband.

Okay. 

Again, stranger things have happened.

Right?

\---

“How’re you feeling?” the Doctor asks the bundle of blankets that she thinks are probably Rose. 

Her blonde head pops up, offering a tiny smile. “ M’fine . Just a bit cold.” 

The Doctor sits down on the bed beside her, suddenly nervous to be doing so, even though they’d been in this position a hundred times before.  _ Never in this body,  _ her mind supplies, and that makes sense, even though it shouldn’t. “Let me look at you,” she says as she goes in search for one of Rose’s hands. She’s cold to the touch, enough so that the Doctor nearly pulls her own hand back in surprise, but she doesn’t look particularly ashen or flushed. Although, her eyes look a little on the side of glassy. She hums a little in concern before breathing a puff of hot air on Rose’s hands and holding them tightly. 

Rose’s eyelids flutter slightly, and she sinks a little further into her blanket pile, but she doesn’t pull her hands away. “That’s nice,” she whispers, voice a tad raspy, which is, frankly, quite  distracting. “Thanks .”

The Doctor clears her throat a bit, ignoring the pleasant feeling settling low in her stomach. “Can I get you anything?” she asks, still clutching Rose’s hands tightly. “A cuppa?”

“Nah. Could you hang around for a bit, though?”

She pretends to consider it for a moment, staring up at the ceiling as if she’s deep in thought, even though they both know there’s nowhere else she’d rather be. “I suppose,” she finally drawls out, accompanied by a long and dramatic sight that makes Rose shake with giggles. The Doctor lifts the corner of Rose’s blanket, suddenly feeling wonderfully brazen. “ Lemme in,” she says, hoping she’s not crossing another one of Rose’s strange boundaries. And  _ thank  _ _ Rassilon _ _ ,  _ because Rose doesn’t even hesitate before shifting to make room. She’s trying not to touch her friend’s body too much, but the other woman clearly doesn’t have the same reservations about touch in private that she does in public, considering she ends up almost on top of the Doctor by the time she’s fully settled again.

“You’re warm,” she grunts as she tucks her head into the crook of the Doctor’s neck. And this level of touching is still so new, because they were never close like this in the  Doctor's other bodies, and the Doctor supposes Rose would have done stuff like this with her husband, but she’d also made it very clear that John and the Doctor are very different people in her mind.

“It’s the hearts,” the Doctor whispers, trying desperately to keep her breathing under control, “I’ve got twice as much blood circulation. One of the benefits of Time Lord biology, I suppose. Never really get cold. Clearly, you don’t have the same advantage, so I’m sorry about that. Do you feel feverish?” She starts to rub what she hopes are soothing circles onto the back of Rose’s shoulder, hoping it will distract her from the way their legs are tangled together.

“ M’still fine, Doctor. Just cold. I can’t get sick, anyways.”

“Really?”

“Well, I mean I haven’t been since before... well, you know.” 

They’re silent for some time after that, because the Doctor isn’t sure she can come up with a response that isn’t another form of an apology. So, she just keeps rubbing the parts of Rose’s shoulder and arm that she can reach until the only sounds are those of fabric rustling in the dim light.

She wonders if this is crossing a line. And deep down, she knows it is. They’d fallen asleep together on the couch before, but they’d also been nearly blackout drunk. Now, her mind is completely clear, and she’s nearly certain that clear-minded friends don’t intentionally go to sleep wrapped around each other. But because she’s selfish, she doesn’t pull away. “Go to sleep,” the Doctor slurs, already feeling a sluggish haze coming over her, helped along by the comforting weight of Rose’s arm slung across the Doctor’s torso.

“You’ll stay?”

“Course.”

“Thanks. I’ve been... strange dreams, is all.”

“What kind?” the Doctor asks. Her eyelids feel heavy.

“Mm. Don’t worry about it.”

The Doctor waits until Rose’s breathing has evened out and she’s stopped shifting about before pressing her lips to the top of the other blonde’s head and inhaling the slight fresh scent of shampoo. She still smells like lavender.

“I love you, John,” Rose whispers, so soft that the Doctor almost misses it.

But she doesn’t. And clearly the Universe hates her so very much, because her heats shatter into a million fucking pieces right then and there.

\---

By the time Rose wakes up, fitful and restless, she’s alone.

\---

“Wait for it. Last one. See? Cosmic fireworks,” the Doctor quips, grinning at the explosion of light outside the TARDIS doors. Out of the corner of her eye, she looks to see if Rose is enjoying herself as much as the others, and sure enough, she’s got that patented look of amazement plastered right across her face. Seems like some things don’t change, after all.

“This is amazing,” Rose says. And maybe, that makes the Doctor’s lips quirk up even farther, but that’s nobody’s business. 

“Best fireworks display I’ve ever seen,” Graham agrees as he crosses his arms in front of him.

The Doctor spins around to fiddle with the console, already debating where to take them next. “Nineteen New Year’s Eves in a row. Which was your favourite?”

“I did love Mesopotamia,” Graham says again. 

“Ah, the original.”

“Oh, really? So, Iraq invented New Year?”

“In the other universe, it was actually the Greeks,” Rose interjects, and the Doctor doesn’t miss that she’s recently stopped calling it  _ her  _ universe. “But I liked 1995. Reminded me of when I was just a kid.”

“Classic. But for me, must’ve been Sydney 2000, watching the fireworks on top of the  Harbour Bridge. Until you nearly fell off,” Ryan says, nudging Graham while the older man shakes his head in amusement.

“1801,” Yaz says, “discovering that dwarf planet with your Italian mate.”

“Lovely Giuseppe Piazzi.” She flicks a lever that she’s secretly pretty sure doesn’t actually do anything. “Shall we do one more, then? Make it a round twenty. I’m thinking  Quantifer , little settlement on the edge of the known universe, where it’s permanently New Year’s Eve. Every day. They’ve got the best balloons.” 

Rose looks as if she’s about to add something, but her mouth snaps shut at the sudden sound of an alarm blaring through the console room. She turns and quirks an eyebrow at the Doctor. “The Earth  alarm ? You’ve still got it?”

“Well, it is where you’ve all come from, after all. It’s just in case.” She pulls the display over and pokes at it a few times, running her eyes over the  Gallifreyan characters. Oh. Oh, no. “Well, that’s bad.”

“What?” Graham asks.

The Doctor whacks the side of the monitor, hoping that the message will disappear, but more characters keep coming, each one more troubling than the last. “Oh, that’s worse. That’s worse than worse. Something – or, somethings are...”

“Sheffield,” Rose gasps, suddenly, and the Doctor wonders for a moment if she’s somehow learned to read  Gallifreyan before she  realises that Rose isn’t even looking at the screen. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to that. “There’s been a spatial shift. And it’s all connected to Sheffield.” 

\---

The Doctor’s keen to make Rose stay inside the TARDIS, but she’s also keen to avoid the three-day-silent-treatment that that little conversation would entail, so she doesn’t say anything when the blonde pushes through the doors, leading the group out into some sort of underground area. It’s damp and it’s dingy, and it smells like a landfill, so the Doctor figures they don’t need Rose’s  _ sensitivity  _ to determine that they’re inside a sewer.

“Hi there,” Rose chirps, looking toward the man who’s clearly just witnessed their arrival and is gaping like a fish. “ Intergalactic time travelers here, no need to fret. What’s your name?”

He splutters a moment, eyes flickering confusedly between them and the Doctor’s ship. “Mitch,” he says politely, almost as a reflex. “You just appeared out of thin air. How did you do that?”

“I’m the Doctor. These are my very best friends, Ryan, Yaz, Graham, and Rose.”

“Hello,” Yaz says with a small wave.

“All right?” Ryan asks.

“Right, okay.”

Graham takes a look around the place, scrunching his nose at the sludgy water near their feet. “Spend a lot of time in sewers, do you, Mitch?”

“We’re excavating an ancient burial site.” Now  _ that’s  _ interesting. The Doctor exchanges a quick glance with Rose, pleased to see intrigue  colouring her friend’s face, before she switches on her sonic and takes some preliminary scans. None of the readings are particularly odd, but then again, there are things buried all throughout the Earth’s crust, whether humans know about them or not. She’d probably get the same readings in a Tesco car park.

“When you say we?” Yaz asks.

“Lin’s  through here. Lin? Where are you?” He peeks around the corner just as a young woman comes rushing back, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “Hey, there you are. These guys just sort of arrived.”

“Hi. I’m the Doctor. Seen anything  unusual , Lin?”

She looks between them all for a moment, but whatever she’s seen, she seems to think it more pressing than the sudden appearance of five strangers inside a sewer. “Yeah, there’s something on the wall back there.” Lin leads them forward around the same bend she’d come from a moment before, and a strange sense of foreboding makes it difficult for the Doctor to focus for a moment. Rose grabs her arm between two of her own hands, but she won’t meet the Doctor’s eyes.

There’s nothing on the wall but a thick, slimy residue.

“It’s moved.”

“What did it look like?” the Doctor asks, trying her upmost to be gentle, but also knowing that they may possibly not have the time to be comforting each other.

“Like a massive squid sort of thing.”

And doesn’t  _ that  _ make the Doctor’s hearts jump, because in the back of her mind, she knows one creature that would fit that descriptor. 

No. No, there are a thousand other things it could have been. It wouldn’t be the – well, it just wouldn’t be them. She tries very hard not to think about that fact that every time she goes up against  _ them,  _ she loses someone she loves.

Instead, she reaches out to touch the goo, because that seems like a very  _ Doctor  _ type thing to do. “Can you get me something to store this in for analysis, please, Mitch?”

“There’s no need.” Rose sticks her hand out and slowly submerges a few fingers in the goo. Despite the fact that the Doctor herself had just touched  it, she still has to restrain herself from holding Rose back from potential danger. “Just give me a sec. There’s something about this stuff – I think I can figure it out.”

_ She’s lived a long time without you,  _ the Doctor thinks.  _ She’ll be okay. _

_ “ _ Doc?” 

She snaps her head back over to look at Graham, who’s got one eyebrow notched at her. “Sorry, did you say something?”

He rolls his eyes quickly, and she wants to stick a foot out and nail him in the shins, but she doesn’t. “Yeah. I was just thinking, do you suppose whatever it was is roaming around down here now, in the water? Should we be worried?”

“Probably. It looks like it slid down this wall and into the water.” She turns toward Mitch. “I want you out of these tunnels right now. I’m putting your site under quarantine.  Yaz’ll escort you. And if you see any sort of creature, don’t go near it. Not until we’ve worked out what it is. Assume proximity is a risk.”

The Doctor watches Yaz lead the archaeologists to the exit steps as Rose comes up to stand beside her. She’s got a pinched look to her face, like she’s afraid to say what she’s thinking. The Doctor thinks that she’s equally afraid to find out. “Did you get anything from the goo?” she asks, despite herself.

Rose pauses with a slight intake of breath, then bites her lip. “Yeah. But you’re not going to like it.”

Well, fuck.


	12. XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still finishing resoution jesus christ. i cut bits out though, just to keep it moving  
> i promise there will be some romance/angst in the next chapter but like - this is tagged slow burn. sorry

“What exactly is a Dalek?” Ryan asks, holed up in a chair in Graham’s front room. 

The Doctor runs her fingers through her hair, already impossibly mussed, and sighs. Rationally, she knows that this is her fight. And it will always be her fight. But when she looks at Rose – when she looks at this beautiful woman who suddenly looks much older than nineteen, she just feels so tired.  _ Can’t it be somebody else’s turn? “ _ A Dalek is the mutated remnants of a warring race, genetically created and housed within a metal case, designed to be a relentless killing machine.”

“Lin said she saw a creature that looked more like a squid,” Yaz says.

Rose takes a heavy breath, unsteady on her feet after using so much energy to analyze the goo. The Doctor wants to wrap her up in a hug, but settles for a steady hand on the other girl’s back. “ S’probably outside of its casing. We’ve... we’ve come across some like that before.”

“Well, then it’s vulnerable,” Graham suggests. The Doctor scoffs, mentally going through all the times she’d mistakenly believed the same thing, and all the hurt that had been caused because of it. “Oh, come on, Doc, one squid versus seven billion humans and you. Odds have got to be in our  favour , surely?”

The Doctor shakes her head as anger starts to bubble its way to the surface. The motherfucking  _ Daleks,  _ always showing up when things are looking good for her, always ready to steal away any ounce of happiness she has left. She’d destroyed her own fucking  _ planet  _ to destroy them, and shouldn’t that be enough? Will anything  _ ever  _ be enough? “I always think I’m rid of them. Never am. Trust me, Graham, even if it’s just one, it’s enough. It’s going to kill anyone that gets in its path, and it’s not going to stop until it’s taken control of this planet.” An image of her planet, red and sandy and completely on fire, flits through her mind. “They’re hateful, vengeful creatures. Nothing like you’ve ever seen. And the things I’ve done to stop them...” Her voice trails off, tight to the point that she’s worried she might start crying in front of her friends, something she’s rarely ever done in any body. Rose silently grabs her hand, and the Doctor takes a deep, shuddering breath, letting her anger cool off until it’s just barely simmering.

When she next closes her eyes, she sees Rose, skin glowing golden with the power of time as she stands off against the Dalek Empire.

Fucking Daleks.

Distantly, she can hear Yaz phoning the archaeologists from earlier. But it’s hard to focus when all she can see is Rose, hundreds of years old, travelling an unfamiliar universe all by herself. Doomed to the fate of a Time Lord, all because of the Daleks.

Suddenly, she wishes she weren’t so adamant about never using guns.

\---

Something strange is going on. 

Something other than the Daleks, of course. When Rose looked at that woman, back in the sewers – Lin – she knew something was up. There was something off about the way the woman was moving that made Rose wish she had better control over when she could have a ‘psychic’ moment. 

Her fears are only confirmed when they go to pick up Mitch by the café, and Lin isn’t with him. You would think you would want to stick with the person you had just discovered an alien with. Rose watches him trek around the console room as the Doctor and Yaz explain the basic concept of the TARDIS, and his wide-eyed look is enough to send her reeling with nostalgia for simpler days.

“So, in your dig,” the Doctor starts, “did you uncover anything else alien-looking?”

“What? No. They’re historical artifacts. They’ve been there for centuries. Wait, are you from the Order of the Custodians?”

“What’s the Order of the Custodians?”

Rose’s ears perk at the term, something in her telling her that this is important, even if she doesn’t know what it means yet. Mitch rifles through his large shoulder bag for a moment before hauling out a large, expensive looking bound book. “So, these guys reckon there was a battle. This mythic creature was killed, and it was split and buried all over the world by the Three Custodians.”

“That spatial shift,” Rose says. “It was the parts of the creature all coming back together. But why now?”

The Doctor takes the book from Mitch and  hurriedly scans the illustrated page. “Ah, don’t tell me. When you lot uncover something, you leave it under the ultraviolet light you had in the sewers.”

Mitch gulps audibly. “Yeah.”

“Ultraviolet light activates the dormant creature, bringing it back to life.” If Rose didn’t know better, she would say that the Doctor sounded almost excited by the prospect.  But, perhaps better than she knows anyone else, she knows the Doctor. And she can see the rising anxiety behind the jerky movements and toothy smiles. 

It makes her heart ache for her husband.

“So, according to this book, there’s been a Dalek buried on Earth for centuries, waiting to revive.”

“An alien. A real alien. God, have you told Lin yet?” Mitch asks.

“I tried. Phone’s going to voicemail, and she’s not replying to texts,” Yaz says.

More alarms go off inside Rose’s head. 

“What? She keeps her phone on all the time. It’s a running joke between us; she’s the instant replier.”

Alarms. Clear as day, blaring so loud she’s almost certain that the others must be able to hear them too. One look at the Doctor, and she can see the same  realisation coming over both of them. “In the sewers, were you together all the time?”

Mitch winces. “No. She went off to look for one of the missing artefacts. That’s when she found the squid.” He looks over at Rose, picking at his nails anxiously. She’s struck for a moment, by how young he looks. How young all of them are. She wonders if the Doctor had once thought the same of her. “Tell me she’s safe.”

Rose doesn’t respond.

\---

“Where are you going? What are you doing?” Mitch calls after them, trailing the Doctor all the way into the TARDIS. The Doctor flicks her eyes over to him for a moment, reaching over to take Yaz’s phone from her outstretched hand.

“Lin’s number is in Yaz’s phone. If I connect it to the TARDIS, we can locate her.” She fiddles with the cable for a moment, watching the monitor struggle to come up with useful readings. “Getting something. No, lost it. There! Bio fix on the location of Dalek DNA. Right. Cross-reference with the signal triangulation of Lin’s phone.” The location of both signals flicker across the screen weakly before strengthening, flashing coordinates that – oh. “It’s the same place. Lin and that creature, they’re together.”

“You mean it’s holding her hostage?” Mitch asks, gripping onto Ryan’s arm for support as the TARDIS groans and shakes.

The Doctor looks up from the controls to catch Rose’s eye. Her own pain and regret  reflect back at her. “I’m really sorry, Mitch. I think it’s  crueller than that. I think it’s using her to move about.”

“How can you be sure?”

Shame flushes the Doctor’s cheeks as something ugly rears its head inside her. She wants to break from Rose’s determined gaze, but she finds herself stuck staring into those hazel eyes. “I learned to think like a Dalek a long time ago,” she says. 

It’s Rose who finally looks away, clicking her tongue with what the Doctor assumes can only be disappointment. “Could we focus on how to help Lin, please?” she asks, but there’s something about her tone that tells the Doctor that it’s not really a request. Her jaw is set in the same steely way that the Doctor has always found both intimidating and endearing. 

“Just give me a  mo ’,” the Doctor says, softer than she intended. She’s not proud of the things she’s done – of  _ course  _ she’s not proud – but she’s never felt more judged than she does right now. But they just –  _ fuck,  _ they bring out the worst in her every damn time. And she knows that Rose will want her to take the high road, to find a solution where no one gets hurt. A part of her resents that; it’s like, what will it take for Rose to just  _ hate  _ something? “I think I can find a way to get through to it. Just need to grease the geo-radial locks.”

\---

“Lin, I know you can hear me,” the Doctor says, staring into the pixelated hologram face of the poor woman who’s been caught in a centuries-old conflict. “I need you to know we’re coming for you, so keep fighting. Mitch is here with us.” Lin’s face morphs then, twisting in pain as she fights the Dalek’s control. But it’s not enough, it’s never enough, and she can see the Dalek overtaking her in their struggle for control.

“I’m not leaving you,” Mitch whispers, and Lin’s face twitches again. 

“I know you’re scared. Keep fighting.”

“This feeble vessel will not fight. The Daleks are supreme,” the mutant sneers. 

The Doctor quirks a forced grin, wishing that they were having this conversation in person so that she would at least have someone to  _ slap. “ _ Yeah? If you’re so supreme, how come you let me keep you chatting while I rebooted my systems? Here’s my New Year’s resolution. I’m coming for you, Dalek. Lin, hold on.” 

\---

Rose watches the Doctor pilot the TARDIS, a flurry of motion as she yanks levers and smashes buttons – the picture of normalcy. Well, for her, anyways. But inside, she knows that this has to be weighing on her. Even after all the time they’d spent apart, she knows what facing the Daleks means to her, and what it will always mean to her. The idealistic part of her hopes that one day it won’t have to be this way anymore, but she’s not naïve. Time can’t heal everything. 

But she’s worried. She’s seen that kind of anger up close and personal, both with the Doctor and with her husband. She’s seen it in herself. And she remembers the long sleepless nights up with John, helping him cope with the guilt of genocide – even the genocide of a horrible race of monsters like the Daleks – and she doesn’t want the Doctor to have to go through that again.  _ She  _ doesn’t want to go through it again. 

It doesn’t help that it feels like her fucking brain is on  _ fire.  _

It’s like she’s got the worst sinus infection of her very long life, multiplied by twenty. 

“The satellite signals tracked the car she stole to here,” the Doctor says. Rose hadn’t even noticed that they’d landed, too busy focused on both the possible genocide dilemma and her overwhelming urge to vomit. 

“So, Lin’s here?” Mitch asks hopefully. 

“Yeah.” The Doctor looks reproachfully at the doors, then back at them. Her eyes connect with Rose’s for just a moment, but she doesn’t hold contact. “You don’t have to come.”

It’s hard not to roll her eyes. In all her years of travelling, both with the Doctor and without, she’s never been known to  _ stay behind.  _ Really, the type of people who would choose to stay behind aren’t the type of people who ever travel with the Doctor anyways. “No chance. This is my fight now, too, you know.  S’not just you against the universe.”

“We’re always with you,” Yaz says, determined even as a slight tremor in her voice betrays her fear. Her and the Doctor exchange a look – resolute and fond – before heading for the doors. 

They come out to a harvest field, full of knee-length wheat and grass that sways softly in the afternoon breeze and tickles Rose’s ankles. Instinctively, she wants to grab the Doctor’s hand, but after that little wordless standoff they’d had inside the TARDIS, she’s not sure it would go over too well. 

“She’s got to be around here somewhere,” the Doctor calls, surveying the grounds as the wind pushes her coat back. She squints at something in the distance, an old rickety building that probably once served as a workshop or shed. When Rose narrows her own eyes until it comes into focus, just the sight of it starts up loud banging noises in her head. She winces at the pain, bringing a hand up to press into her temple.

“There,” she says, using her other arm to wave the others in the right direction. “I -  _ God,  _ I can hear it.” 

“Alright, love?” Graham asks, cuffing a hand around her shoulder. 

“No,” she huffs. “Let’s go.”


	13. XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okie dokie another update because i just REALLY wanted to finish this episode and get on to the angst stuff. i don't do well with writing action, just like i don't do well with writing more than two or three characters interacting at one time. what can i say, i'm a romance gal

They find Lin slumped over inside the workshop, hair plastered against her forehead with sweat, but otherwise physically unharmed. No Dalek in sight. Her friend, Mitch, kneels beside her as the Doctor inspects the suction marks on the back of her neck. From where Rose is standing, it looks painful. “It’s going to be alright, Lin,” she says softly, even though she doesn’t believe it. If the Dalek abandoned its host, it means it found something better. And now they have no idea where it might be.

Mitch puts his  hands on Lin’s knees and looks over her face. “It’s okay, I’m here. We’re all here.”

“I’m sorry,” Lin croaks out, voice thick.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry about. You fought, and you won,” the Doctor says.

Lin lets out a noise part moan and part sob. “No, listen. It’s still here.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Rose sees Ryan arm himself with a linkage rod from the workbench. She appreciates the gusto, but really, if he’s going to go up against a Dalek, he’s going to need to do better than a metal bar. Then again, he wouldn’t know any better. It’s hard to know what to expect with Daleks – it's always worse than you think it will be. “You should all go back to the TARDIS, now. Help her stand. There’s supplies there that’ll help with her neck,” the Doctor says, voice quieter. 

“What about you?” Ryan asks.

“I’m going to find that creature.”

Yaz gawks at her indignantly. “You can’t do that on your own.”

“Always have done. Me and a Dalek, it’s personal. Go on, get her safe.”

The lot of them file out of the workshop, supporting Lin between Mitch and Graham. Rose watches them leave before turning to the Doctor with a crooked eyebrow. “Well?” she says, gesturing to the corridor. 

The Doctor sighs. “You too, Rose. Please don’t argue. You know what this means for me.”

“I do.  N’that’s exactly why I’m staying. I meant  it, you know. The Daleks destroyed my life. It’s not just your fight.”

“I can’t worry about you and take on a Dalek at the same time.”

“Then don’t worry about me.”

“Can’t do that.”

“You’ll have to try,” Rose says, determined to fight even though her head feels like it’s filling with air and might pop off her shoulders at any moment. Were the lights always so fucking bright in here? She doesn’t wait for a response before heading though some plastic sheeting. 

“Come on, Rose. Don’t do this,” the Doctor whines, but follows close behind her anyways.

“Fuck off,” she calls over her shoulder, just as a small explosion punches a hole through a wall. Unsurprisingly, the Dalek trundles its way through the crater – except, well, it’s not really a Dalek. It’s got casing again, which explains why  it shunted Lin, but it’s not the clear-cut laser-perfect  armour that Rose is used to seeing. It looks rushed and barely fused together: glowing in the wrong places with rough edges and a claw instead of the usual plunger shape. The Doctor whips out her sonic just as it tries to fire on them.  _ Yeah,  _ Rose thinks,  _ maybe I should have let you go in front of me.  _ She doesn’t say it out loud. 

“Blocking your laser signals, mate. You’re not fully in sync yet.” She paces around it, seemingly surveying the haggard metalwork. “So, that’s what you’ve been doing. Reconstructing yourself from memory, and remnants, and spare parts.”

The Dalek makes an angry whirring noise, spinning on its wheels but unable to use its weapons yet. “I am rebuilt,”  it says. 

Rose snorts despite herself. “Hardly. Look at yourself. You’re nothing more than a pile of scraps.”

“You dare disrespect the mighty Daleks, human? Earth is under our control.”

“No, it’s not,” the Doctor laughs. “You couldn’t even control one person.”

“Humanity will surrender.”

“Fat chance of that. We can be really stubborn – haven't you worked that out? You were one of the first out of  Skaro , yet we buried you for centuries.” Rose tries to keep her voice level, desperately wanting to keep the upper hand over this creature that she really just wants to kick. 

“Yet I survived.”

The Doctor knocks a hand against its casing, letting the hollow clang fill up the room for a moment. “Yeah, you’re good at that,” she says, unnervingly calm. “But it won’t be enough. You don’t have the strength.” 

Rose flicks her gaze between the Doctor and the Dalek worriedly. She’s not yet got a plan for getting rid of this Dalek without letting the Doctor kill it. And the longer they stand here chatting, working each other up, the more likely that scenario will come to pass. And it’s not that she doesn't think it deserves die, it’s just that she knows that the Doctor doesn’t need any more lives on her conscience. Running away isn’t the answer, obviously, and she doesn’t think this Dalek is going to kill itself in the same way the first one she’d ever met did. 

Well, Rose figures she could always – no. She’s never though that  _ murder  _ was the way to solve problems, and she wasn’t going to start now. She’s killed a Dalek empire before, and that didn’t exactly have the best lasting consequences. Besides, she wouldn’t even know how to do it without any weapons of her own.

“You are weak,” the Dalek says. “Humanity is weak.”

“Except... I’m not human. Have a scan,” the Doctor sneers. The Dalek pauses for a moment, seemingly considering their  existence . Rose wonders for a moment if it will scan her as well. She wonders if she’ll even come up as human anymore. 

“Who are you? Identify!”

“Oh, mate. I’m the Doctor. Ring any bells?” 

The sonic sparks inside her grasp, and she nearly drops it as the Dalek whirs to life. “Sonic device override!”

“I’ll take that as a yes!” the Doctor cries, pulling Rose with her to the side as it begins firing. One shot nearly grazes Rose’s arm, so close that she can feel the heat of it, and  _ you’re going to die  _ barely has time to run through her mind before she’s noticing the look in the Doctor’s eye. It’s a very calculating, very dangerous look, and Rose is thinking if they’re going to get out of here with the Doctor’s relative humanity in check, she has to act fast. The Custodians – they got to the actual Dalek by burning its shell all those years ago. Heat would dissolve the casing. But she doesn’t  _ fucking  _ know where she’s going to get that much heat without immobilizing the Dalek first. 

“The Doctor is an enemy of the Daleks!” it calls. “Exterminate!” The Doctor uses part of her body to shield Rose from the attack, pressing her slightly in the corner. And maybe that would be endearing, but Rose really just wants to throttle her. The pounding in her head gets louder as she ducks another shot, so loud that she barely registers whatever is exploding around her. 

Things are starting to get a bit fuzzy.

_ Not right now,  _ she thinks.  _ Please.  _

Was it always this fucking hot in here? She feels like she should start shucking layers. 

“Weapon failure,” it screams, spinning determinedly in an aimless circle. Rose tries to look on, but she has to close her eyes for a moment to catch her breath. Jesus, it feels like she’s inside a sauna. But it’s not just her; when she finally looks at the Doctor, her hair is nearly dripping with sweat. Had she found some way to crank the heat? Is this her way of defeating the Dalek?

No. She looks as confused as Rose feels. “How are you doing that?” she asks.

Rose tries to ask,  _ doing what?  _ but no noise comes out. Instead, she doubles over, clutching at her stomach where it feels like something is trying to claw its way out. Distantly, she hears screaming. It might be coming from the Dalek, but then again, it might be coming from her. The air looks burnt red now, thick with dark smoke and the scent of burning metal. Someone is shaking her shoulders, but she can’t focus on anything but the rising feeling of  _ power  _ growing inside her. Power, but also pain. Devastating pain. Once more,  _ you’re going to die  _ rings through her head. 

Fuck, it feels like when her appendix burst when she was thirteen, except it’s every fucking organ. It’s like her body is eating itself. Her skin is crawling, and she can feel somebody holding her face, and slowly, she  realises that they’re not being shot at anymore. 

Immediately, it’s like someone pours ice water all over her.

She nearly passes out with relief. 

“Rose,” the Doctor is saying, has probably  _ been  _ saying for quite some time now. Her hands are cupping Rose’s cheeks so tenderly that she barely feels the tickle of them. As Rose pants loudly, trying to catch her breath, they lock eyes – Rose doesn’t think she’s ever seen the Doctor look so frantic. Not since Canary Wharf, when she’d watched him reach for her while the void sucked her in. “Rose, that’s enough.”

Over the Doctor’s shoulder, her she looks through the smoke with bleary eyes until she finds the Dalek. Or, what used to be the Dalek. It’s just a hunk of metal now, bubbling and glowing with embers. “Wha’ happened?” she slurs, staring at the molten mess. It’s still hot inside the workshop, but no longer unbearably so. Glancing around, she sees that they’ve somehow ended up crouched on the floor, and surmises that her legs must have given out at some point during the burning-room fiasco.

“The Dalek... it burned. From the inside out,” the Doctor says slowly, almost as if she doesn’t believe it herself. 

“How?”

They lock eyes again. “I’ve no idea.”

Rose takes a deep steadying breath, using the Doctor as support as she struggles her way to her feet. She can’t stand on her own, not by a long shot. “Maybe – maybe it malfunctioned. Because of the homemade casing.”

“Maybe,” the Doctor agrees, but she doesn’t even sound half convincing. “We need to get back to the TARDIS. Make sure the others are okay.”

\---

Unsurprisingly, the Doctor’s mind is very busy working on about 30 different problems. She doesn’t even know where to start with whatever the  _ fuck  _ just happened. 

“How’d it  go ?” Yaz asks, eyeing the way Rose is hanging off the Doctor’s arm. 

Ryan comes over to help support her, slinging an arm around the blonde’s waist. “Did you get rid of it?”

Rose hums a bit in affirmation, which is basically the first indication that she’s given of being coherent since leaving the farm. She looks about ready to collapse, which is understandable considering how she’d basically just started a fire with her fucking mind. Fuck, she can’t even say that bit out loud – it just sounds so ridiculous. “Up in smoke,” she says, letting her head loll on to Ryan’s shoulder for a moment before righting herself. “Sorry. A bit nauseous.”

“Have a seat,” Ryan says, taking her fully out of the Doctor’s hold and guiding her over to one of the steps surrounding the console area. The rest of the room looks over to the Doctor, obviously looking for a play-by-play, but really, she’s still struggling to come up with a version of events that doesn’t paint her as a fucking crazy person. 

“It, um... We used heat. Burned the shell away.” She doesn’t say anything else, even though she can feel eyes still on her. “How are you feeling, Lin?” she asks, suddenly remembering their extra guests. 

“Er, Shaky.”

“Not surprised. You will for a while. But you kept fighting it. Thank you for your strength.” She reaches into her coat pocket and rifles through a few items until her fingers close around a small bottle of pills. She holds them out in offering. “Take these. Three a minute for four minutes. Don’t take with alcohol. That was an embarrassing party.”

Lin takes the bottle hesitantly, fingers twitching around the plastic. “It was ready to kill me. I could feel its hatred enveloping me.”

“You don’t need to worry about it anymore. It’s taken care of, I promise. I will always take care of it.” 


End file.
